I mentioned I had a theme ready for this month’s digest—which was supposed to be the theme for last month’s digest, if only events didn’t overtake things.

Well, what do you know. Events overtook things, again.

But I’m not wholly abandoning the whole “escape” thing I thought I had. In fact, amidst the ongoing fuel crisis—the astronomically rising prices, the continuing comparisons of how much worse the Philippines is doing compared to its neighboring countries, the short-sighted and shoddy response by the government—the idea of leaving all of this behind became even more relevant, even if it suddenly took on a different form. Suddenly, upping sticks and going somewhere where you’re an unknown entity and everything is different isn’t quite a feasible option—although some of the pieces this month explore that—but the craving we always seem to have for something better just got heightened, more emphasized.

And then the folks at Artemis II just had to show us both a sense of hope and joy, and a feeling that it might just be possible, still—even if escape only happens in our heads.

Get on the list

Escape to a different place

First up, a piece from , originally written in 2021—so, smack in the middle of the pandemic, when what stopped us from going out was the fear of bringing disease to our loved ones—but pretty much evergreen, even to this guy who’s never been to Tokyo, except in, well, anime.

I’m a writer without a byline from Quezon City—the biggest, most populous city in Metro Manila. It was named after a Philippine president who wanted it to be a city for laborers and employees. A barrio Obrero, he called it. It once held the title of national capital but returned it to its rightful owner after war-torn Manila was restored. It is home to 38% of Metro Manila’s population, many of whom are still, in fact, workers who choose to make a living in other cities. It is the city I grew up in and is now the only city I know, ever since the pandemic forced me inside.

This is probably why I prefer the occupations of all my other selves, whose lives take them to Tokyo—the biggest, most populous city in the world. And every video game and anime depiction of it tell the same story: If you don’t live in Tokyo, you want to be a part of Tokyo. And if you are from Tokyo, you want nothing but to be rid of Tokyo. Tokyo feels like a secret that everyone is in on. Everyone except you.

Through the eyes of masked protagonists, magical school girls, and depressed mecha operators, I had seen Tokyo. Which is why when I was old enough, self-sufficient enough to buy a ticket to Tokyo, I went without hesitating. I wanted to risk the version of Tokyo in my head to do one of two things: confirm all those years of dreaming and living lives that weren’t my own, or have the city take everything I have long held close to my heart, then have it chew it up and spit it out.

Read the whole post here.

Flying by night

tokyo dream sequence

i miss writing. a lot of the time i think i’ve lost the ability to cobble up a thought or a sentence worth anyone’s time. but nothing quite like a vacation to tokyo, the biggest most populous city in the world, and a good book (martyr by kaveh akbar) to stir the dormant voices in your head. maybe soon! but as i was thinking about writ…

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2 months ago · 11 likes · 3 comments · Toni Potenciano

Escape to a different self

On the other hand, you have , who wrote about how you can be a different person when you’re in Manila. I could relate a little bit, having lived in Cavite my whole life and suddenly having this opportunity to “be someone else” when I started university—although I still went home to my parents every night, so perhaps nothing really happened.

Anyone can become anything they want in Manila. And rightfully so. Because the exposure from all the vehicular pollution dissolves the fundamental structures of personhood, you are just malleable. It’s chemical decomposition in a sociological sense. The structural decay is opportune for neuroplasticity. Afterwards, you are allowed to build yourself back up using the most elementary, most uncomplex, and most stable components of a man.

And then you read his piece and wonder if he was being sarcastic or he deliberately chose the most clichéd rich person tropes you come across in the capital. But then, this place is densely packed, and you’re not likely to bump into the same people over and over again, unless you choose to.

Read the whole post here.

Escape to… where, exactly?

I’ve had this piece from in my queue for a while now. This was originally posted at the very end of last year, and was actually first written four months or so prior. I don’t quite know what to do with it, as it talks about suicide, and as someone who had to bring someone I loved to the hospital after an attempt… I don’t really quite know what to do with this.

Now, though, I read it and thought, well, maybe this fits the theme somehow? I can see how hopeless these days can feel, but at the same time, I can’t, otherwise I would not be in the position to drive someone who took an entire pack of antidepressants and trying to stop them from falling asleep.

It is an ordinary morning walk to university: the sun hits the pavement in a way that makes everything look like a photograph, the trees line my way perfectly, and it’s a beautiful day outside. People I know wave and smile as I pass, someone calls my name, and the sound is warm. Laughter spills from a group on the corner, and it is full and perfect. For a moment, the world is generous and I am part of it.

I get the terrifying feeling I’m not supposed to be here.

Am I dreaming now or later? The dream has its leg against mine and the waking world cries in front of me. The two of them fold into each other until I cannot tell which is the bed and which is the floor.

There are millions of lives inside me, rooms stacked with doors that do not open. The air is heavy. The walls lean closer. I can feel the floor waiting. Surely, any one of those lives must be better than this one.

Read the whole post here.

andi astra

September is for dreaming

This essay was started in September, National Suicide Prevention Month, and finished today, December 31st…

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4 months ago · 4 likes · andi astra

Escape, for you must

Like the previous piece, I found myself connecting a bit more than I should to ’s piece, not just because of the “Small Town” by Clara Benin of it, but because I had this particular conversation with an old (former?) friend about leaving her hometown for Cebu, and then leave Cebu for whenever she is right now. In both instances, she told me about how those places are so small that you will bump into the same people, and it will be too much.

I deem myself lucky I have not had to deal with this situation, for I think the pain will be too much and I would want to jump off the nearest window to my death if it happens.

In Cebu, everyone is someone’s neighbor, cousin, friend, ex-lover, or old rival, and that arrangement ensured that no first meeting came about without some reminder of the past.

It’s going to a gig and feeling your chest tighten up at the sight of an ex in the crowd. It’s running into a best friend from high school at a cafe and catching up with them when years ago, updating them instantly on life milestones or achievements through text felt like second nature. It’s having to share space with an ex-friend from a previous chapter of your life, both of you trying to start fresh and make a name for yourselves in the same community. It’s hearing whispers about a new friend’s past mistakes and relationships when they’re not in the room, and the uncomfortable awareness that you could be the subject of these conversations, too. Talking about starting over was easy; the hard task of doing it was another. How do you start fresh in a city where everyone has a history with each other?

Read the whole post here.

my space

why they tell you to get out of your hometown

When people talk about the Philippines, they almost always mean the capital, never mind that the Bisaya-speaking population outnumbers the Tagalog-speaking north, and more than half of us in the Visayas and Mindanao can’t relate to EDSA traffic, Glorietta, Katipunan sprawl, and the dude-bro-pare-chong of it all. I mean, good for you guys, but that’s jus…

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a month ago · 34 likes · 5 comments · Ella A.

And when you do leave…

I’m closing this digest by returning to . The last time I featured her—when she contributed a piece about AI to Stack Natin—I mentioned that she’s working on leaving the Philippines to work in Japan. Now, she is in Japan. That’s one step down, and the rest of the hard work is up ahead.

Buhay pa ako, kahit hindi pa ako maka-ariba na mabuhay gaya ng kalayaan ko sa Pinas. Sabi nga dun sa isang reel na napanood ko, A mind with a Limited Vocabulary is a Prison.Malaya naman ang utak ko, matatas ang vocabulary ko sa Filipino at Ingles, pero ang galaw ng katawan ko, hindi! Sa totoo lang, pumunta ako dito para mag-enjoy din naman. Pero parang bawat galaw ko, kailangan kong mag-ipon ng tapang. Kailangan mag-effort ng salita, kailangan matuto. Parang bawat moment kailangan learning experience? Ang daming masasarap na restaurant, pero natatakot pa akong pasukan. Hindi ako maka-order ng mas konting serving. Hindi ko mabasa yung mga menu. Ending mag-luluto ka nalang sa sarili mo, bibili ka nalang ng chichirya.

We did loop back to Tokyo, didn’t we?

Read the whole post here.

Pangarap Kong Maging Hot and Other Stories

OFW Log#4: 1 Month in Tokyo

Hi po Sir Roy ng Manpower…

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a month ago · 6 likes · Bom

Only two new additions to the Stack Natin directory in the last few weeks: say hello to and ! Not that it means there are no more new Filipinos coming over—I still see a lot of you, and you can join the definitive list of Filipino writers on Substack. The link to join the list is here. Or, maybe browse the whole list, see what you like.

Subscribe now

I had a completely different plan for this month’s digest. I saw the theme coming from a mile away (read: as soon as I hit publish on last month’s digest) and had a short list of pieces I wanted to feature.

But then, things—a lot of things—happened.

As I write this, the world is gripped by the ripple effects of war, yet again, in the Middle East—of the United States and Israel attacking Iran, and Iran retaliating by dragging pretty much everyone else into the conflict. We have not seen missiles fly in the Philippines, of course, but the impact here is seen in how closely everyone is watching nightly forecasts of how high increases in oil prices will be on Tuesday, and how long the lines at gasoline stations are. And if I may put my day job hat on—more expensive fuel means more expensive everything else.

All this meant what happened in the last few weeks have pretty much been forgotten, or at least relegated to the back burner. You can say it’s short attention spans, or the breakneck speed of the news cycle, or just how crazy things are these days. But then, I realize that we write not just to record the present but to remind future us of past us. In the off chance we looked away, we can try to look back now.

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Forty years

Last month marked forty years since the People Power Revolution, a (mostly) bloodless uprising when military leaders withdrew their support for then president Ferdinand Marcos Sr.—and were aided by civilians, who’ve had enough of two decades of corruption and suppressed liberties, acting as a barricade between the plotters and remaining military forces loyal to the president. In Filipino lore, this marks “the return of democracy” to the country, as Corazon Aquino—wife of assassinated senator Benigno Aquino Jr.—became leader of the country.

was a student during the tumultuous 1980s, when protests against the repressive Marcos regime reached a peak—even in Baguio, which (at the time) was a half a day’s drive from the capital, Manila.

Many joined the August Twenty-One Movement (ATOM), formed after Senator Benigno Aquino was assassinated on the tarmac of Manila International Airport on August 21, 1983. Opposition to Marcos, the Laban Party, and anyone who protested the dictator wore yellow to support the cause, evoking the lyrics of Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Old Oak Tree.

In Baguio, we did not have oaks. We had pines, and along with every citizen, we bore testimony to the changes in our country. Our teacher allowed us to watch, and we grabbed a yellow tablecloth from the guidance counselor’s office and waved it from our balcony.

Read the whole post here.

Rachielle Sheffler (Baguio Girl)

The First Time I Witnessed Protest

I was in the sixth grade in 1981 when I first learned about dictatorship. My history teacher looked grim and announced, “It is good that Martial Law is lifted, because it is not a natural situation…

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2 months ago · 8 likes · Rachielle Sheffler

Fast forward to now, and the legacy left behind by the revolution is more mixed. Some see it as a squandered opportunity to truly bring change to the country. Some see it as the beginning of the country’s actual downfall. Of course, it depends on which side of the spectrum (if any) you are on, whether you’re desperate for the likes of Leni Robredo to be accepted by the masses, or you’re happy to see Rodrigo Duterte or Bongbong Marcos (they were allies before, remember?) as president.

It’s something touches on in his ongoing series of essays applying the prism of social theorist René Girard to Philippine history.

Unveiling the egregores that shape how we see the world allows us to imagine what the world looks like to those on the other side of this invisible war. For instance, to those of us reared by the egregore of EDSA, Ferdinand Marcos was a thief, a cheat, a monster. To those brought up by the ancient egregore, Marcos was a great king. He was Apo Lakay, the supreme datu who outplayed all other datus. Likewise, more than the modern “Western” ideal of “public servant,” Erap, Duterte, and [Bongbong Marcos] were supreme datus crowned by the Filipino masses.

Read the whole post here.

Explorations.ph 🧭

The Invisible Philippine War

It turns out my country isn’t what I thought it was…

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2 years ago · 8 likes · 2 comments · Kahlil Corazo

Kahlil’s piece brought to mind my own piece on the legacy of the People Power Revolution, particularly the frequent invocation of the “spirit of EDSA” as a rallying point for those who “love the country” (read: those on one side of the spectrum) and continue to visibly protest against the controversies surrounding this administration and the last one. I’ve always believed that we need to listen to the other side if we’re to even have a shot at convincing them to listen to ours. Instead, we just resort to calling anyone whose political opinions don’t align with ours as “bobo” (stupid). But where do we begin?

That all starts with a common basis of verifiable facts. It’s not impossible to do in our current, ever-changing information ecosystem—but it is difficult, considering how it’s built to get our attention rather than inform us. And it’s not just about misinformation—have you thought about how otherwise trustworthy media outfits give blanket coverage to trivial issues because a certain group of people would engage with those posts? Like, say, a certain politician’s daughter’s wedding?

Read the whole post here.

Nicksy Once Monthly

It's about time we give up on the 'spirit of EDSA'

The most important road in Metro Manila, if not all of the Philippines, is not named after a president or a national hero, but to someone who is, by all means, a geek…

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2 months ago · 17 likes · 5 comments · Niko Batallones

At least, there’s still some degree of universal agreement that the revolution shows the Filipino at its best… and perhaps, in its aftermath, at its worst.

Twelve thousand deaths

The last week of February also saw a historical moment for the Philippines: Rodrigo Duterte—well, his lawyers—faced the pre-trial chamber of the International Criminal Court, for the confirmation of charges of “crimes against humanity” against the former president.

Sure, how you see this depends on what your political persuasions are. Either this is an important step in justice being upheld for the estimated 12,000 killed during his “war on drugs”, mostly poor people who used illegal substances rather than sold them—or this is a shameful moment when the country’s oligarchs and political elites, aided by shady international institutions, repressed a truly popular president who wanted nothing but for the Philippines to stand proud.

That said, the hearings were given the marathon coverage treatment on Philippine television (well, online at least), making for the first opportunity that the case against the former president is laid in a straightforward, almost non-chalant way. Sure, you can say journalist Patricia Evangelista already did it in her 2023 book Some People Need Killing, but let’s be honest—not everyone has read it. (I haven’t.) For four days, the cases of the prosecution and the defense were laid bare. It was riveting viewing.

I have featured on these digests once before. As a journalist, and later as researcher for Human Rights Watch, he has documented killings under Duterte’s watch, both as mayor of Davao City, and later as president of the Philippines.

In the late 1990s, I lived in Davao City. Violence was a fact of life, but mostly only for the poor. Street children, drug users, suspected petty criminals: they absorbed the full force of Duterte’s anticrime campaign. The middle and upper classes inhabited a different city entirely.

I bought into the narrative then. Davao was safe, I’d tell people. The only city where I felt comfortable drinking late, walking home at 2 a.m. I didn’t yet understand–or perhaps I did but chose to look the other way–that my comfort was purchased with other people’s blood.

In the early 2000s, I started documenting what the mayor’s campaign actually meant, pitching stories about dead street children. The atrocities defied comprehension.

Read the whole post here.

Carlos Conde 🇵🇭

I Documented Duterte's Abuses. Here's Why I Take the ICC Probe Personally

By Carlos H. Conde…

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2 months ago · 6 likes · 1 comment · Carlos H. Conde

By the time this goes live, no decision has yet been made as to whether the three charges against Duterte will go to trial. Personally, I would be surprised if they didn’t.

I must also add that Carlos also launched a new Substack, , which dives into news stories from the perspective of the struggle for human rights.

59 million women

The arrival of International Women’s Month in the Philippines meant the resumption of the discussion of how women are seen in Filipino society. In the eyes of one politician, well… a sexual fantasy that didn’t happen? What a bad taste in the mouth.

But of course, the women play a huge role, an unseen one considering how this traditionally matriarchal society has been flipped into a patriarchal one over centuries. (Of course, it is more complex than that.) wrote an eye-opening piece about “the cost of a Filipina’s labor of love”, not just as a homemaker but, in many cases, as a (or the sole) breadwinner. Considering the conflict in the Middle East and how it has made thousands of overseas Filipino workers there anxious—a caregiver is a casualty of the first Iranian retaliatory strike in Israel—I’m citing the part of her piece about the Filipinas who fly to other countries to work as domestic helpers.

The Overseas Workers Welfare Administration has documented that 75 percent of reported abuse cases in the Gulf Cooperation Council involve female OFWs. In Saudi Arabia, studies have found that the majority of Filipina domestic workers experience physical or psychological violence. Under the kafala system, which ties a worker’s legal status to her employer, domestic workers can be confined to homes, stripped of communication devices, and denied the freedom to leave. The word for this, when applied to any other context, is captivity.

Yet the Philippine state continues to deploy these women. They are called bagong bayani—modern-day heroines—a title that performs the ideological work of converting exploitation into patriotism, transforming structural abandonment into national pride. The heroism narrative serves a function: it prevents the question of why a nation with one of the highest rates of educated women in Southeast Asia must export them as domestic servants to sustain its own economy.

On one hand, OFW remittances to the Philippines generally contribute an additional 15% of our gross domestic product. From an economic standpoint, that’s an enviable quality, and certainly helps power domestic consumption. On the other hand, it does come at the expense of Filipinos—especially those working as domestic helpers—being treated as second-class citizens. There’s a reason why so many of us are keen to work in Israel: the reputation that employers there treat their people well, a trait bolstered in our minds by it being the starting point of Christianity.

Read the whole post here.

franticsearch

What is the Cost of a Filipina's Labor of Love?

Every March 8th, the Philippines commemorates International Working Women’s Day with declarations of empowerment, tributes to the Filipina’s resilience, and a parade of institutional promises. But what if the structures we celebrate as progress are built on an exploitation so normalized we have mistaken it for love…

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2 months ago · 1 like · Judith Pascual

Back home, in many cases, it’s women who are at the front lines of calling for change. It’s also because they’re also disproportionately affected by the decisions they are protesting against. has an interesting piece illustrating several examples.

Toenails of a female anti-mining advocate got crushed and later torn apart after police used shields to smash her feet three times times during a barricade dispersal at a mine site in Didipio, Nueva Vizcaya six years ago.

“For almost a month, I couldn’t go to work,” said the advocate, who, in April 2020, was taking video footage of police breaking up the barricade so that trucks carrying fuel could enter the mine site. The dispersal took place during the COVID-19 pandemic that imposed travel restrictions and disallowed close physical contact to avoid virus transmission.

Read the whole piece here.

Nothing in Particular

Toenails, threats, and tremors

(Disclaimer: This piece does not represent the full extent of the threats and difficulties faced by individuals and groups opposed to mining all across the Philippines, some of whom have already been killed. Data ci…

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2 months ago · 3 likes · Robert JA Basilio Jr

The revolution is never finished

The original theme for this month’s digest is “escape”, and while I will probably still do it next month, the pieces I have come across these last few weeks seem to serve as a reminder, to me and to all of us: it may be great to get away, but you cannot leave behind your reality—and that reality is intertwined with everybody else’s: one of unrealized dreams and failed potentials, of shortcuts and misdeeds, of how things shouldn’t be and how things should be.

I’m closing this digest with a piece from .

It’s easier to shut things out and keep surviving, but numbness comes at a cost. It can slowly erode our ability to recognize goodness when it appears, making us forget how to be human. Would we still look for the good if we no longer know how to recognize it?

We are not islands and even when the system isolates us, our lives continue to remain entangled with others. The world is an ecosystem and each of us plays a part in it. Whenever I feel like I couldn’t care less, I try to pause, to say thank you, to greet the bus driver who looks as tired as I am. To acknowledge that we are enduring the same day, together.

For as long as we don’t do it performatively, I say: for as long as we don’t choose who we are kind to, for as long as we are truly open to listen to what they might say.

Read the whole post here.

Tiny Signals

Caring is a superpower

Commuting in Metro Manila during the rush hour turns time into something you watch disappear. It tests your patience, resilience, and will to live. On average, I spend a total of 3-4 hours on the road when I report to the office, leaving the house before dawn and arriving right after the sun has fully set. Whenever I go to work, it’s always the same sky…

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2 months ago · 12 likes · Janelle

Wait, before we go, a hello to the newest members of the Stack Natin directory: , , and ! You can join the list by signing up here—or you can click here to see the publications already on the list. They might be where your next favorite read is.

Subscribe now

I’ll admit I mentally chuckled when I realized that, among the Filipino youth today, “yearning” is a term often passed about. Sure, they haven’t changed what it means—it’s still an intense longing for something pretty much unattainable—but between the quoting of Mitski and Megumi Acorda songs, the screenshots of (possibly) fictional text messages and the long-recorded Filipino penchant to be romantic, well, “yearning” feels like a familiar and yet a new thing altogether, something I should, in theory, not understand.

And yet, I do—and I’m not just saying this as a jilted ex-boyfriend who was… you know the script. But maybe I am, because I am of the age where peers are disappearing into full-on adulthood one by one, and everyone I am meeting is of a completely different generation than me. And, yes, it’s always nice to know you are loved and chosen, especially after you’ve been told “you cannot be loved” and “you have to love yourself” in quick succession. Is that ever going to happen? I doubt, honestly, so now, I just yearn.

I felt a little adrift while putting together this month’s digest, because most of the stuff I’ve come across come from teenagers and twentysomethings who still have that romance in them. I guess time makes you jaded, but it doesn’t mean you stop wanting something.

Get on the list

…for what isn’t there

This piece from felt a little too familiar, as if I was reading about myself in the months after the break-up, when I was resisting the idea that loving myself is required in order to be loved, and just last year, when somehow I felt ready, but not so, to be a little more flirty. (Yes, this piece is in Taglish, so I will try my best once again to translate the bit I’m quoting for the non-Filipino readers.)

Minsan natanong ko, bakit kaya napakatahimik ng buhay ko sa ganitong bagay? Pakiramdam ko naman kaya ko — kakayanin ko. Buong buhay ko, nagbabasa, nanonood, at nakikinig na ako ng mga kanta tungkol sa pag-ibig. Akala ko nga madali lang e, ngunit bakit parang ang hirap? Pero sige, baka hindi pa ito ang tamang panahon para sa’kin.

Kaso kasi baks, ang hirap rin namang ipilit ang mga bagay na hindi pa naman yata para sa’yo. Mahirap maghanap ng walang kasiguraduhan, pero alam mo kung anong mas mahirap? ‘Yung tipong pagsapit ng alas-dies ng gabi, bigla kang mangungulila sa taong hindi mo pa naman kilala. Ang ending? Matutulog ka nalang ng mas maaga para hindi mo maabutan ang oras na sumisira sa ulo mo.

Sometimes I ask, why does my life seem so quiet when it comes to these things? I feel like I can do it anyway—I can manage. All my life, I have been reading, watching, and listening to songs about love. I thought it was easy, but how come it’s actually quite hard? But, okay, maybe now isn’t the right time for me yet.

But, baks, it’s also not easy to force things that aren’t meant for you yet. It’s hard to look for something without certainty, but you know what’s harder? When it’s ten in the evening, and you suddenly yearn for someone you don’t even know. The ending? You will go to sleep earlier so you won’t catch the hour that does your head in.

(Side note: “baks” is a shortened form of “bakla”, meaning “gay”, but this is particularly used as a term of endearment, often among friends.)

Yes, I’ve been sleeping earlier at night for the past three years, save for that one time when I was talking to someone until three in the morning. It’s easy to mistake these things when you’re arguably desperate for something you’re not clear about.

Read the whole post here.

To all the words I couldn't utter,

Baks, organic encounter ‘yung cravings ko.

Para sa isang hopeless romantic na taong katulad ko, hindi ko alam kung mataas lang ba sadya ang standards ko o sadyang madami lang talaga akong gustong mangyari isang relasyon. Alam mo ‘yun? Wala pa namang nadating pero ‘yung mga lugar na gusto mong puntahan kasama siya ay nakalista na. Pati mga kainan, laro, pelikula na papanoorin, atsaka mga…

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7 months ago · 14 likes · just.clouded

When do you know you’re ready? You don’t, really; they say you just feel it. Maybe it is a fault that I’m the guy looking for certainty before taking the plunge, but then, in these times? This piece from —I think a decade and a half my junior, I must add—reflects some of this thinking… I feel.

I still think about it sometimes— what if I really did get married civilly and live together right after graduation? I know my younger self would be disappointed. That wasn’t the life she envisioned. She never wanted to marry anyone. She never wanted a family of her own. She was too busy healing wounds she didn’t ask for, too focused on surviving herself.

But then she grew older. And love came rushing in.

It was unexpected, inconvenient, and comforting all at once. The idea of having a companion, someone to soften the sharp edges of living, made life feel a little more bearable. Not easier. Just lighter. And maybe that’s the contradiction I’m still learning to sit with: how love can both derail you and save you, how it can ask you to become someone else while reminding you of who you are.

Read the whole post here.

lyzardd

vacant namin

:--// I overheard a colleague talking about what if her long-time boyfriend finally proposes. For context, I’m surrounded by grown-ass adults, 25 to mid-30s, so conversations like that aren’t rare. I’m probably one of the youngest in the room; I started med school at 21. Still, there was a time when I was just as certain as they were— so sure of the man …

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4 months ago · lyz

…for what is there, more or less

While ’s piece is meant to be more of a word dump than a piece that one spends a lot of time with before writing it down—she did say this isn’t a thought piece—I appreciated the storytelling here, again in Taglish, about her and her girlfriend, who are in a long-distance relationship.

the drive to and from [Quezon City] was longer than the time we spent together, dumaan pa kami ng skyway sa lagay na ‘yon, ha. she kept on apologizing for it and kept saying na i deserve better daw and thanking me for understanding. she then shared me her worry na sometimes, when her brain wins, she thinks “hanggang kailan?” and asked if nagtitiis lang daw ba ako. if i’m just settling. i told her na iba ‘yung tinitiis lang sa talagang naiintindihan mo. i assured her na what she’s giving me is more than enough given the circumstance she has and that i am more than grateful for that.

The drive to and from Quezon City was longer than the time we spent together. Take note, we passed through Skyway at that. She kept on apologizing for it and kept saying that I deserve better, and thanking me for understanding. She then shared me her worry that sometimes, when her brain wins, she thinks, “until when?” and asked if I am just biding my time. If I’m just settling. I told her that biding my time is different from truly understanding someone. I assured her that what she’s giving me is more than enough given the circumstances she has, and that I am more than grateful for that.

Read the whole post here.

random ramblings

can i be a simp here

my girlfriend and i are in a long distance relationship; fairview and las pinas (before she eventually moved to cebu for work) so we’re pretty much used to the distance and everything that comes with it. we talk everyday. and even if our days get hectic, we would always end it on call to have a brief catch up when we both have the energy to do so or jus…

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3 months ago · 5 likes · mawi

…for what is no longer there, but somehow, still is

I have two pieces on losing the love of your life. One of them is a year old, but it’s a piercing monument to a love shared, and a love kept despite the other being gone.

I’m not sure how I came across ’s post—most likely it’s the feed spitting it out?—retelling the story of Hannah and John, whose relationship was forged by food, up until the very end.

Even our fights revolved around food. Once, I wanted to try a shabu-shabu place in BGC, but John, ever the stubborn Taurus, insisted on a fancy Japanese restaurant in Makati instead. I stewed in silence the entire drive, arms crossed, gaze fixed out the window in classic petty protest.

He ordered three platters of sushi, a bowl of gyudon, tempura, and a tantanmen ramen—for two. The scent of grilled eel and soy lingered between us, thick with tension, filling the silence.

“Sarap, noh?” he smirked as I took a bite.

I was still annoyed, but I couldn’t help but nod, chewing.

“So, bati na tayo?” he teased.

I remember tearing up, overwhelmed by frustration and love for this person all at once. “Yes. But can we go to the hotpot place tomorrow?”

Read the whole post here.

The next piece comes from , chronicling the story of artist Wincy Ong and his late wife, CJ de Silva. Filipinos of a certain age would remember her as one of several “Promil kids”, gifted children featured in advertisements for the infant supplement—I think she was the one with the massive painting. She would remain a mover in the country’s cultural circles, until her sudden death from a brain aneurysm in 2024. Wincy would take several paths to keep his wife’s memory alive, and the deeper he went, he found that there is, more often than not, let’s say, a response from the other side, too.

Recently, I was in Japan. When I returned, my writing class professor gave an assignment: to write a biographical essay. I submitted the names of Wincy and Victor Anastacio (whose show with Comedy Manila I attended a few months ago). On the day I messaged Wincy asking for an interview, my Facebook memories showed my post from 2021. At that time, I published snippets of Leni Robredo’s presidential declaration and used Cj’s artwork which I had seen earlier on my feed.

When I sat down with Wincy for this interview, I told him about it. He said I was the fourth person to reach out to him, that Cj’s presence felt stronger during the month of October. Apparently, it was their favorite time of the year. Autumn. He said they were supposed to travel to Japan last October. He liked to call it synchronicity, and there were plenty of other stories to tell.

Jazmin tells me this is originally a school assignment that she later republished with Wincy’s permission.

Read the whole post here.

This Is (A) Recording

Find the Connection

Telepono…

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5 months ago · 3 likes · Jazmin Banal

…for another chance, maybe?

Finally, another old post that came through the feeds, for some reason. talks about meeting a guy, and finding herself thinking of another guy in the process. Don’t worry. There’s a bigger point to the whole thing.

In a world where they tell us constantly to hide away our softness when it comes to breakups, the most life-changing and healing thing you can do is feel. I have learned to feel more comfortable in simply feeling my feelings. It sounds easier said than done, but I am sure I am not the only one who likes to intellectualize their feelings a lot, or worse, suppress them. Who cares if I still missed that man? No one is going to pop up behind me and say- you are a weak, helpless girl, suck it up.

There’s something so incredibly special, I think when you miss someone, even when the love has been lost. To be honest, I don’t think any love you ever felt will ever be lost, because it lives inside of us forever.

It’s a matter of pride when I say I don’t miss the ex-girlfriend. The cheating and the gaslighting and the whole putting-the-last-ten-years-in-doubt thing really did my head in, but… maybe you can say I miss the feeling of being loved? Not the familial kind, but the sort where someone you have not known before chooses you, truly chooses you, for who you are? Who understands that the foibles do not outweigh the strengths, who is willing to work with all of that to cultivate a love that can, sorry, make the world go round?

I really shouldn’t be writing this digest while feeling lonely.

Or maybe I should rethink writing my digests on the 15th of the month, because this always falls the day after Valentine’s Day…

Read the whole post here.

THE FILIPINA PROPAGANDA

But there was once a time

On one of my nights out with my friends a couple weekends ago, I met someone…

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10 months ago · 6 likes · 3 comments

Before we end, a hello to so many people who joined the Stack Natin directory these past few weeks: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , and ! And you can join the directory too by filling up the form here… or find your next favorite read from the Filipinos of Substack by browsing our growing directory.

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Something’s been happening to the Filipino community on Substack in the last few weeks: it’s been growing. It’s been growing quite quickly. There are those who have joined the Stack Natin directory—and there’s a lot of you—and then there are those who haven’t, but somehow still catch my attention as the algorithm realizes that I’m looking for people who share a similar geographical background as me.

It feels like a tipping point, the precise moment when something potentially fantastic starts. Or maybe it’s when something catastrophic creeps in, something we don’t notice until it’s just almost too late. With that in mind, as well as the whole thing about the start of a new year being an opportunity for a new beginning, this month’s digest is loosely around origin stories… whether we call it that, or we’re not aware that it is.

Get on the list

A story of creation (not that one)

Let’s begin with a post that literally calls itself an origin story. Well, according to , it could be an origin story.

i wrote because my body needed somewhere to put what it couldn’t carry anymore. the rage. the longing. the unspeakable wanting. when my chest felt too tight, when my stomach turned sour with holding back, i wrote. when i stayed silent with the people i loved, i spoke on the page. the page didn’t flinch. it didn’t ask me to be generous with my empathy. it didn’t ask me to be kind. it let me be incoherent, desperate, selfish — and still stay. it was the first place i didn’t have to lie just to be loved.

At the risk of possibly spoiling this post… this really isn’t the whole story yet. I feel where this all heads lies in a photo caption, and—although I know this sounds incredibly voyeuristic—I am keen to see where this leads.

Read the whole post here.

what i lie awake about at night

this might be an origin story

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4 months ago · 2 likes · summer ✮⋆˙.ᐟ

Speaking of writing, here’s another self-proclaimed origin story. At least confidently calls it such. She also talks about how she began to write.

I started writing because I was introduced to stories and reading early on. I started writing because I genuinely enjoyed reading and how the words, when put together, created conversations and stories. Stories I enjoyed and return to from time to time.

When it comes to reading, I remember my mama being an important part of it. I am the eldest of 9 kids. Mama most probably had more energy to still read me stories when I was little. When I was young, I can recall we had books by Dr. Seuss and the classics. Remember those storybooks with a gold strip on the side? We had lots of those. We lost those when we moved to Bohol.

Ahh, I also did grow up with Little Golden Books coming from family friends who were fortunate enough to have flown abroad. Okay, let me jump to the end, and to one last bit.

Writing feels like breathing for me these days, so I feel I am repressed when I am not able to. I hope I keep writing no matter the circumstances I am in and no matter what I’m feeling.

Read the whole post here.

Maymay | Storyteller in Progress

How I Started Writing

I spotted a book on writing while I was at National Bookstore Bohol (a rare occurrence!). I bought it again and added it to my growing list of unfinished books. This year, for some reason, I responded to my urge to buy books on impulse…

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4 months ago · 1 like · Maymay in Progress

And this is when I wear my other publication’s cap and express my excitement at how has started her own space here. One of the most exciting names in Philippine music today, her second album won the top prize at the Awit Awards (our equivalent of the Grammys) back in 2023, and she dropped a new EP a few months back. But I’m featuring her post discussing her own origin story with music.

[The] first time my fingers pressed the keys, something lit up inside me—a spark that crackled through my brain like a secret only I could hear.

I listened to the notes I played and compared them to the songs humming from the radio in my grandpa’s car.

Sometimes they matched.

Sometimes they didn’t.

But in that tiny space between sound and silence, I felt a strange joy… the feeling of discovering something that belonged only to me, something that asked for nothing in return. My love of music began there, and it slowly became my method of organizing the world.

Read the whole post here.

Hiding Spot

music is my hiding spot

The Piano in the Living Room…

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5 months ago · 18 likes · ena mori

A story of transformation

The name of ’s (second) publication has always intrigued me: . “My dream is to be hot.” Here she is, finally addressing the title, about how she didn’t have the urge to be attractive back then… until her biological clock did the urging for her.

I totally did not get the point of dressing up for a man. I survived this life by my smarts. I am one of those nearing her forties who never had a hoe phase, who never flirted, part of those they labeled NBSB (No Boyfriend Since Birth). An anomaly. Its not as if its necessary to have one. It is inconvenient to get Pregnant anyway. I was fine with my adventurous, clandestine, solo life. But it felt like I missed out on the Female experience. It felt like a moral failing. I was one of those ones who kept on being asked: Maganda ka naman, Maganda Trabaho mo, ba’t wala ka pang Jowa? Choosy ka siguro.

Until you hit your late 30s, and there came this urge that almost drove me crazy.
The urge where you’re body screams HEYYYY YOU’RE A WOMAN, Tick Tock, GET SOME!!!

It’s not entirely a story about how she began to… think of the male gaze here. There is a lot she tackles in her piece, and I feel you’ll be the richer for reading it.

Read the whole post here.

Pangarap Kong Maging Hot and Other Stories

Nung minsan, hindi ko makita yung point na maging Hot

The bullies in my High School are pretty. The thing with studying in an all girls school is that you concentrate a portion of society in one fixed point in time, in this case, girls. And the concentration of these brings out the good and the nasty. Contrary to popular belief, women do not have the same personalities, they do not like the same things, bu…

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4 months ago · 14 likes · 2 comments · Bom

Speaking of transformation, I’ve been keeping an eye on ’s posts since he vacationed in Taipei, a city that I love (and honestly miss—I have been visiting Hong Kong more). Turns out that, for him, it was a turning point, and so we are most likely witnessing an origin story unfold right before our eyes. (No spoilers here: the piece is named “I decided to leave my job”.)

While the trip would indeed be fun, it wasn’t actually a vacation. I’d been invited to an in-person meetup with twenty or so creators, a chance to finally meet some Internet friends in real life.

The day I arrived in Ximending, I was in awe. I enjoyed the vibrant colors all around the district. The artsy street designs, the anime gacha machines, even the Hello Kitty-themed 7-Eleven.

Being in a new country for the first time, I knew that my life would change the moment I stepped off the plane. I knew I’d inevitably become a new person. But I had no idea just how much things would change once the trip was over.

Read the whole post here.

Better Meant

I decided to leave my job

My life completely changed when I traveled to Taipei…

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4 months ago · 41 likes · 28 comments · Linart Seprioto

A story of identity

It’s interesting how it’s not uncommon to encounter posts that first saw life as a school submission. This post from is for one of her sociology classes, but does capture a little bit of a life most of us in the Philippines don’t think of much: being born Filipino but growing up in the Middle East—Saudi Arabia, in this specific case—where many have gone to work on its oil rigs and refineries (and, of course, as domestic helpers too).

Being a [Third Culture Kid] made me embrace cultural diversity but also feel distanced from either of my identities be it as a “Saudi kid” or a Filipino citizen. In relation to our colonial history, we were taught in schools to have patriotism to the Philippines. But even if we were taught of our national identity in schools, it feels different because we still live far away from the Philippines. We were also subjugated to conform to the regulations, norms, and culture of KSA. If Filipino kids in the Philippines play luksong baka or tumbang preso as a pastime, we only play it because it is a sport in our intramurals. At the same time, I felt that there is an implicit devaluation of the Filipino identity which might be rooted in the distance we felt as “Filipinos” away from our “homeland”-- the Philippines.

Read the whole post here.

Sticking with national identity, it’s about time I feature a post from on these parts. To be honest, his pieces are well-researched and well-thought through, but they can be really intense reads—the sort that you really have to devote time to. From my perspective, though, it was a matter of finding the right fit for the digests, and his latest piece, written in light of recent actions by the United States government under Donald Trump, feels like a reckoning that an entire country raised on American values and American pop culture should at least consider.

When we talk about Filipino history, the former colonizers of Spain and Japan get demonized (and rightfully so), yet none of this vitriol is targeted to American colonial rule, nor is any of this vitriol targeted towards continued American influence post-independence. And their influence, while you can argue some of it being “good”, is also quite self-serving and has contributed to the erasing of local culture. America has somehow been seen as one of the more benevolent imperial rulers, but alas, there is no such thing as a benevolent colonizer.

There’s still a long way, though. If you “hate” America, you must be an activist, and somehow, in this country, leaning to the left politically is still seen as a scary thing.

Read the whole post.

Balik sa Ating Kaluluwa

as filipinos, we don't hate on america enough

Here is a hard truth that the Philippines needs to come to terms with. America is not our benevolent savior. America hasn’t, and still does not, have the Philippines best interests. When we were supposed to have our independence in 1898, our sovereignty was compromised by American intrusion, and unfortunately, we became yet again, a colony of a Western …

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4 months ago · 44 likes · 2 comments · Datu Kidlat

I’d like to end with a piece from , which is as straightforward as it gets: she talks about her surname, one that she never really had a connection with. (Spoiler: it’s not the one she currently has.)

[My] last name at birth followed me around like an animal hunting its prey. It literally was the name of an animal, which humiliated me growing up. As a teenager, I Googled myself to discover my name was nearly identical to the stage name used by a Toronto-area escort, which was likewise humiliating. I longed to change it, and specifically to extricate myself from the original family who imposed it upon us: the people who had so failed to love my father that he was rendered incapable of fully loving himself.

Read the whole post here.

Estoya

Why I Am

I always knew I would change my name someday. I just didn’t know why, nor to what. I suspected it would not be for the reason most women change their names, which is because our names—and, still to this day, our identities, to some degree—are meant to change hands from our fathers to our husbands. In my case, I changed my name because it, and my identit…

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4 months ago · 3 likes · Erica D. Estoya

It’s been a very busy time on the directory, so hello to those who joined over the last few weeks: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , and ! (And breathe. That is a lot.) You can be part of the Stack Natin directory too, but you have to fill up the form first. Or you can browse the directory and find your next favorite read.

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As this should be the last post from Stack Natin for the year, may I take the chance to wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year?

And also, may I take the chance to point out that, at least from my vantage point, it doesn’t feel like many of us are in the mood for the holidays?

I mean, this year feels more exhausting than any of the other post-pandemic ones (and yes, I know there aren’t a lot of those to choose from). The number of calamities that have hit our shores just in the last six months alone is overwhelming; while the plight of those directly affected are no longer on our screens, our constant exposure to disaster just tells us that they’re still out there, picking up the pieces and trying to make the best of what they have left. (You can still help out, if you’re so inclined.) And then there are the still ongoing revelations of corruption among our government officials, and never-ending machinations among our political leaders, reminding us that while they fight over what isn’t rightfully theirs, we’re left to fend for ourselves. The wheels of justice, as we all dreaded but expected, roll slow.

Yet, despite the muted vibe, we’re still trying so hard to celebrate Christmas. The Philippines may be a predominantly Catholic country, but this is no longer so much about marking the birth of Jesus as it is an opportunity to return to family and loved ones and look back at the year that was—our equivalent to the American Thanksgiving. So, we’re still contending with (much) heavier than usual traffic. As my colleague, the economist Ronilo Balbieran, is keen to put it, the Filipino’s “animal spirit” is still alive and kicking, and it’s a good thing.

That said, please forgive me for the somewhat downbeat selection of pieces from Filipino writers across Substack this month. I suppose it cannot be helped.

Get on the list

“Saan aabot ang 500 pesos mo?”

I suppose what captures this push and pull best is the reaction surrounding the pronouncement of a key government official about how Filipino families should be able to afford the traditional Noche Buena—a meal shared by family as midnight strikes on Christmas day—on just PHP 500, or just a little over USD 8.

I was watching (yes) that radio interview with trade secretary Ma. Cristina Roque, and when she said what she said, I remember thinking, well, that’s an ideal, but there’s a lot of work needed to get there. (If I may put my day job hat on… I talk about it a little bit in a radio interview about a completely different topic from a few months ago. Also, full disclosure: what I am writing now are my personal opinions and not of the organization I work for.) The pushback was pretty instantaneous, both from civil groups and from regular Fiipinos, quickly turning the statement into online fodder—and yet more proof of how out of touch the government is.

The launched their Substack publication just a few weeks ago and this whole topic was among one of their earlier offerings. Written by Ron Joshua Imperial, who’s studying post-graduate philosophy at the University of the Philippines, this piece is on the academic side, but it does capture a bit of the pushback.

Essentially, the DTI’s remark that a 500-peso Noche Buena is enough is a great example of an attempt at preference lowballing. It lowballs what an agent may prefer. It normalizes the agent’s adaptive preferences (e.g., a 500-peso worth of Noche Buena for a family of four), and thus further buries the original preferences (that even an impoverished family may dare to desire, among others, a whole hamon). In doing so, preference lowballing also further conceals the causal circumstances that cause the agent to undergo adaptive preference formation. Because a 500-peso Noche Buena is normalized and deemed appropriate, while exceeding it is to be “ostentatious,” the agent is preemptively prevented from reflecting the genesis of one’s wants. Because of that, they are barred from realizing that if not, for instance, for poverty, they could have wanted more. Realizing so can be a catalyst for radical change.

Read the whole post here.

Manila Dialectics Society

Nobody Wants Sour Grapes for Christmas

The Department of Trade and Industry (DTI) recently drew flak after DTI Secretary Ma. Cristina Aldeguer-Roque claims that a 500-peso meal package will suffice for an “ordinary” family of four for Noche Buena (see Clapano 2025). It did not help when the Malacañang defended the DTI …

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5 months ago · 12 likes · Manila Dialectics Society

With Christmas also comes heavier than usual traffic. Some might argue that this is only really a concern in Metro Manila—where roughly 20 million people either live, or work, or both, in a space that’s just slightly smaller than all of Singapore—but in many ways, it represents both the priorities the Filipino has, and the constraints they face in achieving it. This car-centric society sees automobile ownership as a sign of '“making it”, for one—and it’s something that’s reflected in the infrastructure that does get made (read: more highways and less public transportation) and, err, what we all know gets pocketed.

Economist has worked in both the public and private sectors and is also an advocate for economics literacy. On her Substack she has a pretty enlightening piece about how different things are in Europe compared to the Philippines—something we most likely already know but feels stark when laid out plainly, and also in a bulleted list—and, more importantly, talks about what we lose with all the time we spend traveling.

Time poverty is when the number of hours you spend doing things you must do (working, commuting, cooking, caring for people) leaves almost no time for things you want to do. Economists and transport scholars talk about it as the lack of “discretionary time.” And commuting is a huge part of that.

[…]

Some even argue that travel time should be treated as a form of poverty in itself because it steals the hours that could have gone to rest, family, or leisure. But the question is by who? The Philippines lag behind neighboring countries when it comes to infrastructure investment. Besides poor planning, a lot of it goes to the pockets of supposed for-people leaders. In 2019, it was estimated that the country loses P700 billion or EUR 10 billion every year due to corruption which could have covered 1 year’s worth of medical expense in the country for ~50% of our population.

Read the whole post here.

structured rants from systemic scars

Why we don't have hobbies: A day in the life of a "time-poor" Filipino

Honestly, when I got to Europe and heard people talk about their gap years hiking in Patagonia, skiing trips, volunteering in Peru, or even just their “pilates before work” routine… I felt so small. I look back at my life in Manila and recall that it was just work, eat, sleep, repeat. From the outside, it would seem that I am a lazy person wasting away …

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5 months ago · 12 likes · 1 comment · Tisha Evite

How much further can we go?

The way I’ve set this up, I may have made this Christmas season look very grim indeed. There is pushback—this is the only time of the year we can do so! one might say—but then there is also surrender. We can be tired, and we have gotten tired, and amidst all this talk of resistance and fighting I feel we forget that sometimes the only option people have is to surrender, for now, and recharge to fight another day.

I’ve had this piece from in my head for a while, hooked by the opening paragraph, and then drawn into a thought exercise that can be seen by some as unproductive daydreaming, and by others as harnessing the power of the universe to manifest.

Even if reality is healing only in our minds, couldn’t we sit and conjure that vision for as long as we can? The word Utopia comes from the Greek roots not and place, a place that exists nowhere. But Eutopia, its homonym, comes from the words good place. Both can be true at the same time, and in the course of human history, it’s entirely possible that one meaning becomes favored over another.

In my utopic vision, there’s a house with many rooms backed by the mountains and facing the sun. The house stands on fertile soil that we tend to as one great garden. In the garden, there are countless fruit trees of mango, guava, rambutan, jackfruit, as well as atis, guyabano, caimito, suha. We grow leafy vegetables and root crops in colorful patches—my favorite crop is calabasa for its sweet color and flavor.

Read the whole post here.

Soulful Resistance

For now

I’ve been more depressed lately. I haven’t been going to the continuing protests against corruption. I know it’s no excuse, but I can’t fathom a future where those assholes get what they deserve. So, that leaves me in a position as a political writer to stay silent because I don’t have anything hopeful or stirring or new to say. That’s no good either, s…

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5 months ago · 5 likes · 2 comments · Maria Nilad

We have arrived. Home. For now.

Like Holy Week and Undas, Christmas is a time for Filipinos to flock back to the provinces, especially if they have family there. It’s a little less pronounced though—they’re more likely to fly out for a vacation at this time, especially if they can afford to go to a country where there’s winter—but still, I’m highlighting several posts that (very barely, I admit) allude to that exodus in this, perhaps the most family-centric holiday of them all.

First, this piece from Filipino-Canadian journalist on “pag-uwi”, which, he points out, does not exactly translate to “coming home”.

When I migrated to Canada, I discovered that English offers no real equivalent for pag-uwi. “Coming home” is close, but it misses the interiority of the Filipino word. Pag-uwi is a noun, a container—a whole emotional event. It holds longing and obligation, tenderness and dread, hope and the residue of unfinished conversations. It is something you prepare for. Something you rehearse. Augustine might call it a movement of the heart toward its rightful place; Heidegger might see it as a return to one’s dwelling; Buber might call it a turn toward the I–Thou relationship, the face meeting another face in honesty.

Well, this is the season of distant relatives asking you questions about your life as if they really have a stake in it.

Read the whole post here.

Unlearning the Silence

On the word pag-uwi

There is a certain quiet that arrives only in the moment of pag-uwi—that suspended breath between leaving and returning, between who you were in the wide world and who you must become the instant you step across a threshold. Pag-uwi is not merely an arrival. It is an act burdened with memory, expectation, and the weight of every silence we were trained…

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5 months ago · 2 likes · Renato Gandia

Speaking of awkward questions, this is the time when we quietly plead for our relatives to not impose their idea of success on us and just be happy that we are there. I feel an alignment between that and this piece from writer and rambler (in the walking sense, note) , written in Filipino with an English translation.

Ang pakikinig ay pagpapatuloy ng aking mga kaisipan sa mga kaisipan ng iba. Hindi kailangang bago ang dapat kong marinig. Malamang sa malamang narinig ko na ito noon—naisip ko na. Ngunit, hindi sa boses ng kasalukuyang nagsasalita. Pakikinig ang paglilipat natin ng ating kamalayan sa iba—ang paghiram natin ng antipara ng ating kapwa upang mas tignan ng malapitan ang isang penomeno.

Read the whole post here.

Vince Imbat

Pakikinig // Listening

Ang pakikinig ay pagpapatuloy ng aking mga kaisipan sa mga kaisipan ng iba. Hindi kailangang bago ang dapat kong marinig. Malamang sa malamang narinig ko na ito noon—naisip ko na. Ngunit, hindi sa boses ng kasalukuyang nagsasalita. Pakikinig ang paglilipat natin ng ating kamalayan sa iba—ang paghiram natin ng antipara ng ating kapwa upang mas tignan ng …

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5 months ago · 2 likes · Vince Imbat

The funny thing with Christmas, though—especially with the reunions and the vacations, but even if you’re spending the holiday mostly alone, which, I hope not—is how it reminds you of the passage of time. Not just because the new year is almost around, but because you see relatives you only see once a year, and you see how different they’ve become—how old they’ve become—and you see your cousins as adults rather than as fellow kids you used to play with. And we ourselves change, too, although sometimes not fast enough for pesky aunts and their questions.

I’m wrapping up this digest with a piece from on goodbyes and rebirths. I told you these will be barely connected, but it felt like a poetic way to end this month’s round-up.

When I was younger, the only measure for sticking around was happiness. Am I still happy? Is it making me happy? Will it make me happy? Having ‘yes or no’ questions to make decisions can be limiting, but it was enough for my 20-year-old self to power through and take leaps. But as I grew older, I find myself asking more questions that go beyond happiness, deliberating my next steps with a little more nuance and intention: Is this the right direction? Does it align with my values? Am I ready to embrace the consequences of leaving?

But how do you find answers to that? When is a farewell ever easy? How do we know when it’s better to carry the weight of parting than the weight of staying?

Also, Janelle talking about turning 33 makes this guy turning 37 in three weeks feel old.

Read the whole post here.

Tiny Signals

Learning how to say goodbye

A friend once told me that turning 33 means entering your “Jesus” year: a year of shedding your old self and embracing rebirth. We may have been the same age, but my experience was not as intense — no miracles, no rising from the dead, no grand spectacle of leaving a grave only to appear before a crowd and ascend to heaven. My rebirth was quieter, more …

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5 months ago · 15 likes · 4 comments · Janelle

Before we close, a big hello and welcome to the newest additions to the Stack Natin directory: , , and ! (Yep, they all featured in last month’s digest.) You can also join the directory by filling out this form—we won’t add you unless you do this! Or you can browse the directory for your next favorite read. And with that, on behalf of the Stack Natin community, may your Noche Buena (or whatever your equivalent is) be good, and may your gifts be meaningful, and may your holidays be bright.

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Maybe it’s because it’s November, which means it’s the long weekend of “Undas”—All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day, an opportunity for everyone to visit the final resting places of their loved ones, which sees a large (if not as massive as Holy Week) exodus to the provinces. That said, with both days falling on a Saturday and Sunday, and only Friday being declared an extra day off, it didn’t feel much like a long weekend.

Maybe it’s because of all the typhoons and earthquakes that have rattled us over the last few days. I wrote about it last Monday—if you’re keen to help, please do so—although I am happy to report that the death toll for Fung-Wong (Uwan) is much smaller than feared. That said, one death is still one death too many, and the knowledge that all of this could be preventable if not for the greediness of people in power rankles much harder than it used to.

In any case, this is perhaps the easiest monthly digest I’ve done in a while, if only because the theme presented itself early in the posts that have caught my eye. There’s a lot of writing about loss lately. Sure, a lot of our writing is about loss—personal losses, mostly, and us lamenting what was one there, and anxiously awaiting what will take its place. It only wasn’t this explicit before. Maybe it’s all of what’s going on.

Get on the list

Losing what we hold dear…

First off, three pieces about grief, and incidentally all of them take off from the death of their respective fathers.

This one is from , about how grief does not take one form all throughout your life.

A dear friend lost someone special to him a few months ago. When I asked him how he was, he could only say: “Grief is foreign to me.”

By then, it had been almost two years since my dad passed. I had begun to feel fairly familiar, comfortable even, with grief. But hearing those words, I realized that familiarity doesn’t make you a local in the land. I still get lost, finding myself retracing old steps, thinking I know the way only to find new corners I haven’t seen before.

Grief comes in waves, as they say.

Read the whole post here.

the reflection room

no land more foreign than grief

A dear friend lost someone special to him a few months ago. When I asked him how he was, he could only say: “Grief is foreign to me…

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6 months ago · 38 likes · 11 comments · rei

This one is from , who talks about coping not just with the grief, but with the… let’s just call it the “legacy” of the people we mourn.

I don’t want to forget my papa. But remembering him hurts so much I feel like it’s my own body’s coping mechanism not to do so.

He’s become a concept to me now. A dark joke. A tattoo. A sob story. No longer a person.

I don’t want him to become less of a person to me.

But I also couldn’t handle the grief of missing him any more.

Read the whole post here.

it’s not that deep.

grief is a language I still don’t speak fluently

Just woke up from a dream of my parents fighting…

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6 months ago · Cheps

Inevitably, as a person whose entire Substack writing journey is a way of processing grief (and anger), these posts would resonate with me. It’s funny how, three years after the betrayal, only now can I say with some degree of confidence that I am ready to face the world again. I guess it also helped that the people who rush me into “getting over” the grief have themselves left my life—for better or worse—and now I am surrounded by people who understand that these things only change shape, rather than disappear completely.

That brings me to the final post in this series, from .

Dad passed one month after I moved to Madrid during the pandemic. Everyone assumed that my being far away made the loss that much harder and more painful for me. It felt tactless and disrespectful to admit it at the time, but distance actually made it so much easier.

By the third day, my grief seemed to have disappeared. The tears stopped. I just didn’t feel sad. I searched and scanned myself for the gaping hole that ought to still be there, but it seemed to have disappeared overnight.

Grief doesn’t disappear, of course. It just likes to play hide and seek; to ebb and to flow. It’s more like a perpetual condition that learns to manage itself over time with occasional flare-ups. Not always apparent, but never out of your system.

Read the whole post here.

Madrileña from Manila

Distance makes losing loved ones easier

We’re wrapping up Halloween weekend in Madrid…

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6 months ago · 6 likes · 3 comments · Cate de Leon

…and finding peace with it, somehow

I was flicking through the latest (or as latest as it could be, considering how it’s hard to buy local magazines these days) issue of Rolling Stone Philippines when I saw ’s interview with fellow artist Corinne de San Jose, and then stumbling upon her Substack mentioning that interview. But most of all, this piece is about dealing with loss—lost opportunities? lost chances?—and making peace with all that as you move along.

[The] other members of my immediate family are also artists, and whenever we do interviews, the question of comparison always comes up. Sometimes it gets brought up in casual conversation or even when I’m just standing at an exhibit opening. I don’t blame anyone; it’s a fair question to ask. I’ve really never felt in competition with any of them, and I’m always happy and proud when they do well. It’s just inevitable to question where I place on this hierarchy. Is that healthy? No. But it is normal.

Biases aside, I do find my family very talented. However, when they achieve something significant, I think about what other people must be thinking about me. “Well, what is Carina doing? Why can’t she make it like the rest of her family?” And like, here I am, yapping on a Substack, watching a dumb show in the background, and putting off chores so I can psych myself up to go to the studio today, because, well, I have to.

It’s hard. Comparison is the thief of joy and all that. It’s not really something I can stop doing, either. Not easily, anyway.

Read the whole post here.

The Second Structure of Feeling

r/bald and Letting Go

I’ve had a Reddit account for over 6 years (I had one prior to that that I never used) which I used to read recaps of trash T.V. like MAFS and The Valley or series like The Wheel of Time, beauty reviews, medical advice (lol) and like, handyman things around the house. I only ever started being more active on it recently due to a snark sub that got bann…

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7 months ago · 8 likes · Carina

A bit later I would stumble upon ’s piece, which isn’t really about loss, but rather, about the dreams that amplify those feelings of loss in the first place—the things that keep us going, that anchor us in the right direction as we journey towards a goal of some sort.

At the time, my dream was simple: To earn as much as, if not more than, my $260/month pay on a job with normal hours. That was hard to find in my city, where the minimum wage was around $130/month. I was a sophomore in college and I worked the night shift while taking classes during the day. It was the only way to afford a laptop, a camera, and all the expenses that go into pursuing a film career.

My father, who drives a public transport jeepney, suffered a stroke then and my call center job became, for me, being the eldest among four siblings, my family’s safety net.

I waved thoughts of family and finances away. I focused on my surroundings.

There is beauty in stillness, especially in stillness moved: The pines swaying, the cool breeze, and the insects chirping in the silence. I was alive, healthy, paid. I was fine. And though my problems felt overwhelming, I was making do, and that was all that truly mattered. I would be fine.

Then I thought about my plans. What can I look forward to?

Read the whole post here.

Artist Analysis

2 A.M. Walks Kept Me Sane in a Soulless 9–5

The world changes at 2 a.m…

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6 months ago · 4 likes · 3 comments · John Pucay

Finally, I will still have to nod to the current mood of anger—dissipating, and then coming back, and perhaps dissipating again until the next one, or am I just being cynical?—enveloping the Philippines today. ’s piece on being an activist—and how it came to be, because of previous conceptions dropping away, exposing what is really happening—was something I found resonant especially in the last few weeks.

I used to think change comes from quiet endurance — that things would be better if you just did good and stayed patient. But that was me living in my rose-colored world, where there was no exploitation or corruption.

Read the whole post here.

kumawala sa kawalan

sometimes i rage (sometimes i hide)

“Lahat ng sangkot, dapat managot…

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7 months ago · winslow moon

I must add, as an update of sorts, that there is supposed to be another major protest against corruption on the 30th of this month.

And so we move on, whatever that means

To address my blind spot for fiction that I mentioned in Stack Natin’s anniversary post earlier this month, let me close with a piece of flash fiction from , a writing assignment when she was in high school, and a nice way to conclude this month’s digest, I feel.

“Do you know that the sea and heaven are connected ma?” he asked out of nowhere, breaking the silence. “What? No, where’d you get that? Who told you? Aunt Cassidy?” “Nope, I heard it on the telly. . .They said that if you wrote a message in the bottle and throw it in the sea it would reach heaven!” Oh it must be the show he’s watching, I thought; kids really do believe everything they’re told. “Really? Is that so? Well then we might write a letter someday and throw it there so someone can read it in heaven.” I responded, “Then it’s mail to heaven!” he replied, with his mouth open and pointing at the sky. I kissed his check and brushed his hair again, “You witty little boy, let’s get back to the cottage now.” I tickled him, while he was giggling, I carried him back to the cottage again.

And that was the last time we ever did that.

Read the whole post here.

Ami

Kisses to the sky

“Mommy, mommy, look! Look up at the sky…

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6 months ago · 1 like · Ami

This month we say hello to the newest additions to the Stack Natin directory: , , , , , , , and ! Keen to join us? We may already see you, but you have to list up for the directory yourself—fill up the form here to get started. Or you can browse through the 115(!) publications that form part of the directory here. And also, why not follow us on Instagram? I don’t plug it often, but maybe I should…

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Last month’s digest captured some of the anger that swelled among Filipinos in the preceding weeks as new revelations of corruption across the Philippine government—revelations that, arguably, caused anguish and cost lives and property among ordinary citizens—came to light.

Well, things continued from there, so if you’ll allow me, I’m treating this month’s digest as, at least partly, an update.

Get on the list

Remember, remember, the 21st of September

Things came to a head on 21 September, when two major protests were held in Manila, alongside smaller gatherings in other parts of the country. Both were billed as a protest against corruption in government, and both also took particular pains to not paint themselves in any political color, a recognition that this problem is one that persists across administrations.

There is a significance to the chosen date, and not just that it happened to fall on a weekend. 21 September 1972 was when Ferdinand Marcos Sr. declared martial law in the Philippines, ostensibly to fight the threat of communism, but in reality to consolidate power (and wealth) to himself, his family and his allies. You can imagine the awkwardness of pointing out that his son—the current president, Bongbong Marcos—is arguably the one who shed light on the issue of ghost flood control projects to begin with: an obvious beneficiary of corruption, and one who hasn’t sought penance for it—now calling out corruption. (And then there’s the political arithmetic, which requires a much longer explanation.)

Anyway, I digress. Psychologist and author wrote a quick backgrounder not just on the significance of the date, but also on the prevailing mindset of Filipinos seen through the decades, first during the Martial Law years leading to the bloodless People Power Revolution in 1986, and most recently, during last month’s protests.

We’ve fallen for all the tricks of colonial and authoritarian propaganda:

• “The natives are lazy (Juan Tamad), always procrastinating (Mañana Habit), and never committed to completing tasks (Ningas Cogon)!”

• “We should always be hospitable, and we must offer our best food and best rooms to all visitors.”

• “Our leaders are the nation’s parents, so we should be good, obedient children and avoid being pasaway (stubborn)!”

But historically speaking, we haven’t just been passive and submissive.

Read the whole post here.

Sikodiwa Reader

Standing Up, Standing Together

On this day in 1972, former president Ferdinand Marcos Sr. placed the entire country under Martial Law. In the shadows of the glamorous parties of high society and in the foundations of the new cultural buildings, this era was rife with reports of corruption, abuses, and disappearances. Finally, in 1986, hundreds of thousands of Filipinos from all walks…

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7 months ago · 57 likes · 1 comment · Carl Lorenz Cervantes

Perhaps the timing of the protests is also a reminder to all Filipinos: the change we want to see will almost always start with the way we vote. Clearly we—and before you say “not me”, let’s just say we are all responsible, okay?—are still keen to vote for the supposedly disgraced, as evidenced by the fact that the son of the person responsible for Martial Law is now president. Again, that’s political mathematics, and that’s a much longer explanation.

It’s these things we bring with us wherever we go—and it even impacts those who weren’t around at the time. The media was keen to paint the protests last month as one led by generation Z, although there were a lot of left-leaning political leaders there as well. I myself was born right after People Power, and I am a millennial—which makes me old.

was not even born here, although she has seen the events of 1986 unfold on television, and relied heavily on stories from her mother, who was studying when Proclamation 1081 was made.

I first learned about Martial Law from my mother, who was a nursing student in Manila when it was declared. She couldn’t get to work at the hospital without a military escort. I imagine her being shuttled in their jeeps through the empty streets in the wee hours of the morning in her pristine white uniform and smart nurse’s cap. The image is at odds with the documented reports and articles I read about women and men who were arrested, tortured, and, in some cases, disappeared, never to be seen again.

Martial Law was one of the few things my dad never spoke about. Perhaps that’s because he was already in the U.S. working on his residency and focusing on the life he wanted to build here.

Read the whole post here.

100 Ways to Filipino

Fighting for a Home That Isn’t Mine.

I wasn’t born in the Philippines. The Philippines isn’t …

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7 months ago · 12 likes · 3 comments · Lisa Angulo Reid

We cannot slow down, but we have to do more

Sadly, but perhaps unsurprisingly, the issue began losing steam in the weeks after the protests. I’m not sure why, exactly. It’s not the rioting that marred what was otherwise a peaceful day of protests (and allegations in certain circles that some forces almost took advantage of the situation). For the most part, I feel it’s because our day-to-day lives took over, especially when a string of calamities—typhoons and, to our panic, earthquakes, in the plural—hit parts of the country in rapid succession.

And then there’s how investigations from both the legislature and the Independent Commission on Infrastructure seemed to run out of momentum because of political maneuvering on the former—how have they transformed an issue truly of national concern into just another front in the war for numbers?—and the lack of transparency on the latter. But, again, that’s a long explanation.

And so, once again, it seems the burden once again falls down on us Filipinos.

Sociologist and author Ash Presto (aka ) had a pretty interesting take on how Filipinos online took a more proactive stance in calling out politicians and “nepo babies” who were involved in recent corruption revelations, and how it can only go so far. Worth noting that this piece was written before the protests—and yet it’s “netizens” who raised the alarm as a major legislator slithered away from the investigation by flying to Europe.

Ang public scrutiny na ito ay nagiging paraan para kahit papaano ay matapatan ng ordinaryong mamamayan ang political machinery ng mga pulitiko at kontratista. Pinapakita natin na hindi katanggap-tanggap ang display of greed and luxury.

Pero may hangganan ang public shaming. Kapag puro tao lang ang tine-target at hindi ang mismong sistema, nawawala sa usapan yung mga institusyong nagpapatibay sa ganitong cycle ng privilege at corruption.

[…]

Medium to long term, kailangan talaga ng institutional solutions at intersectoral collaboration.

Read the whole post here.

Wiser Yet: Athena's Thoughts

The Promise and Limits of Online Lifestyle Checks as a Political Check in the Philippines

Marami na rin akong nakausap na news outlets tungkol sa issue ng political dynasties at kontratistang nakinabang sa maanomalyang flood control projects…

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8 months ago · 31 likes · 2 comments · Wiser Yet: Athena's Thoughts

But, if what’s needed is not just the removal of some bad apples but a wholesale change in the system—which, let’s all admit, this clearly is—we should start by recognizing that, despite our differences, every Filipino is worth it. It doesn’t matter how we vote—and we should not suddenly espouse undemocratic ideals like, say, banning certain people from voting at all, a thought that always pops up on social media in times of political frustration. But I digress.

The folks at , a community platform centered on sustainable fashion, have some thoughts:

All Filipinos, equally - whether they live in a luxury BGC high-rise or in a riverside barangay that floods every rainy season - deserve to live dignified lives. But the reality is not so: the lives of poor and marginalized Filipinos are too often treated as expendable in the pursuit of growth, profit, and greed.

[…]

So what would a “Filipino lives matter” approach to sustainability look like?

For me, it means measuring progress not just in GDP or mall openings, but in flood-free homes, safe jobs, accessible healthcare, and children who don’t miss weeks of school every time a storm hits. It means recovering and redirecting funds stolen by corruption into communities that carry the heaviest climate burden. It means realizing that there is no true sustainability if our poorest communities remain exposed, unheard, and unprotected.

Read the whole post here.

Snatched

Let’s Talk about Filipino Lives Matter

Hi there…

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7 months ago · 3 likes · Basically Borrowed

The way we marginalize certain groups also reflects in the media we consume (make a big deal out of not consuming). This is a little different, but hear me out. Last year’s Best Picture winner at the Metro Manila Film Festival, Green Bones, was being considered for submission to next year’s Oscars (the honor would eventually go to Lav Diaz’s Magellan) but argues it didn’t deserve to be considered because of how it oversimplified the plight of a marginalized group at the center of its plot.

In our cinematic imagination of crime, we forget to examine the role of poverty in increasing criminal activities, of the failures of a political and economic system in providing for its people. In films like Green Bones, crime continues to be treated as a personal moral failing rather than being seen as a symptom of a societal cancer.

Read the whole post here.

Kinoise Magazine

Green Bones and the Innocent Prisoner Dilemma

With the Film Academy of the Philippines (FAP) recently announcing the newest Lav Diaz film Magellan as the Philippines’ submission for the Academy Award for Best International Feature Film category, I can breathe a sigh of relief that Green Bones was not chosen…

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8 months ago · 10 likes · Kinoise and FJ Calvario

And if it seems easier to follow the status quo because nothing will change anyway, well, one, the things we want to change—the things we need to change—will not happen overnight. So we might as well work hard at it, and watch each other along the way. There’s a good reminder from television personality—and patron saint to bloggers of a certain age, like me—, in her first ever post on this platform:

Friends asked me, “so do you think the rally made a difference?” To be honest, for the corrupt leaders, maybe not. Kung kaya nila mangurakot ng bilyon-bilyon ng para bang wala lang, I doubt that rallies or even being cancelled on social media matters to them. But for us citizens? YES. It made a difference. We all know we’re fed up, we all know we want things to change FOR REAL, and we all know that no matter what color or political affiliation, we are demading for all corrupt officials to pay the price—return the money and go to jail.

Now more than ever, we can’t lose hope.

Read the whole post here.

Bianca Gonzalez

"I don't know why I think I can make any kind of difference. All I know is that I want to."

That quote you read on the title is not mine. It’s words written by Angelina Jolie in her 2003 book, Notes From My Travels. I vividly remember seeing this book on the shelf of the old Fully Booked in Alabang Town Center, having no second thoughts about purchasing it, and reading it as soon as I got home…

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7 months ago · 55 likes · 21 comments · Bianca Gonzalez

And finally, a few lines about the rain

How do I quote this poem from without really mangling it? In any case, it’s a short yet beautiful read, and I feel it’s a poignant way to end this month’s digest.

When a sudden downpour and
a window left open ends up with
the pale blue carpet soaked
through, the sunflower yellow
lamp dripping fat tears down its
face, polaroids on a corkboard of
the persons and versions we were
once drenched, I remember our
first apartment with the creaky
floors and cramped kitchen, how
every time it rained the bedroom
walls leaked and we got used to
wringing murky water from heavy
towels we’d hang in the back for
days to dry.

Read the whole post here.

Sunday Morning

Weather report

When a sudden downpour and…

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7 months ago · 12 likes · 2 comments · Marla

As always, before we wrap up, a shoutout to those who have joined the Stack Natin directory in the last few weeks or so: , , , and . You can still join the directory by clicking here, or you can find your next favorite read from the Filipinos of Substack by clicking here.

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I have absolutely no choice but to be topical for this month’s digest.

The Philippines is once again consumed by allegations of corruption within government, this time about the construction—or non-construction, as is sometimes the case—of flood control projects. Well, it’s not so much allegations as confirmations of what we’ve long suspected, or perhaps even known: of how a few families benefit, complete with their children flaunting their wealth on social media like it’s no big deal; of how politicians and government officials at seemingly all levels are involved; of how much money changes hands—in the billions of pesos—before a single brick is laid, if it even reaches that point. And, of course, we know the end result, every year, when our lives go to a standstill because of flooding, which gets worse as time goes on.

Inevitably, this has also become a preoccupation among the Filipinos of Substack, and considering how we might be on the verge of a convulsion that rattles everything, it will most likely remain a preoccupation on here for a while. Yet I can’t help but see a theme, whether it’s a piece about the scandals, or about something else entirely. In times like these, we really need to talk, to communicate, to reach out, rather than to stubbornly dig into our heels and insist we are above the fray.

Get on the list

…the corruption. Once again.

So, first, the allegations. If you’re new to the story, the folks at ABS-CBN News just released an hour-long documentary (there are English subtitles!) about the whole story. I have to mention, this is the very news organization that the previous president of the Philippines forced off air simply because he didn’t like them.

As the story develops, the pieces I’ve seen end up becoming outdated, so let’s just call these snapshots of a story that, as I write this, shows no signs of slowing down. Hopefully.

Here’s on the sense of anger coming over:

For decades, Filipinos have paid their taxes faithfully, trusting that the kaban ng bayan would be used to safeguard lives, especially in a country that faces an average of 20 typhoons a year and devastating floods. And yet, billions allocated for flood control vanished into thin air, while communities drown. The Commission on Audit (COA) has repeatedly flagged ghost projects, overpricing, and missing funds in infrastructure. Still, this system thrived because too many in power chose silence over courage.

And here’s the bitter truth. Every collapsed dike, every flooded barangay, every life lost is a receipt.

A receipt for a corrupt system that lined pockets instead of reinforcing levees. A receipt for every lawmaker or DPWH official who signed off on projects that existed only on paper.

The outrage now swelling across social media isn’t just about bad governance—it’s about betrayal.

This is why this issue cannot be drowned in political drama.

Read the whole post here.

Rob Rances

CORRUPTION IN FLOOD CONTROL: FOLLOW THE MONEY, FOLLOW THE BLOOD

We need to talk about corruption—not in whispers, not in vague headlines, but in raw, unflinching detail…

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8 months ago · 17 likes · 3 comments · Rob Rances

Here’s on the sense of hope that comes as the anger threatens to boil over:

When the protestors threw rotten vegetables at the police, I felt a sense of solidarity. When the activists and flood victims wrote “MAGNANAKAW” on the gate of the Discayas, my heart leapt up, in as yet an unrecognizable shade of joy. Is it [schadenfreude] to feel such joy, coupled with [a] sense of justice, no matter how small and petty, and perhaps, criminal?

Read the whole post here.

A Marikit Moment

When Filipinos Get Angry

When was the last time when public sentiment against corruption got this heated? Ordinary people throwing rotten vegetables at policemen feebly hiding behind their shields, irate citizens throwing dirty water, because, for the past few months, floods inundated cities and streets that never knew floods before. When Filipinos reach the end of their ropes…

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8 months ago · 11 likes · 1 comment · mataraykween 🇵🇭💜

Here’s on the limitations of the current hearings being done by our legislators to suss out the mess:

This is why the endless parade of congressional hearings must end. They are entertaining, but ultimately performative — a circus of soundbites that yields no accountability. What is needed now is a truly independent commission, armed with the legal power to subpoena, to compel testimony, and to punish those who refuse to cooperate. The role of Congress should be simple and limited: to transfer this responsibility by passing a law that grants such a commission real teeth. Only then can we move past the theatrics and toward the truth.

I must mention that Bongbong Marcos ordered the establishment of this independent commission last week, and has named at least three of its members. One more quote from Gigo:

What we are facing is not merely a set of bad actors or a few scandalous contracts — it is a culture. A culture of corruption that has, for decades, been embedded into the very fabric of governance. It has been tolerated, normalized, and passed down like political inheritance.

Unraveling it will not be a matter of months, or even years. It will be a monumental task, and frankly, I am not sure we have what is needed to meet this challenge. It requires both institutional reform and moral courage — two qualities our politics do not have in abundance.

Read the whole post here.

Wala Lang

A Culture of Corruption

In 2016, the Discaya couple’s nine companies posted a combined revenue of P99 million. Just a year later, that number had jumped to P1.3 billion — a staggering 952% increase. By 2018, revenues reached P12.05 billion, representing another 1,065% leap. Even during the pandemic years of 2020 to 2022, while much of the country struggled to stay afloat, thei…

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8 months ago · 7 likes · Gigo Alampay

Here’s yours truly, , on one way the Filipino people may be ill-equipped:

We’re also the same people who’s more inclined to post on social media stuff like, “who here knows someone from [insert government agency here]? I have a problem that needs to be resolved.” This is exactly what Vico was talking about—our resigned acceptance of corruption in government as a given, even if we ourselves call for better government—and this is exactly what we have to confront ourselves. But then, no one likes to admit that Filipinos have always been individualistic. Maybe it’s the system not working for the past half century or so, but we definitely see ourselves as hustlers in a dog-eat-dog world. Climbing the ladder is overrated. “Diskarte” (street smarts) is necessary. You take all the shortcuts you take and pull all the strings you pull. Anyone who follows the rules is weak. The faster you get to the top, the better a person you are.

Read the whole post here.

Nicksy Once Monthly

Still waiting for the next Turning Point

Now that they don’t have a congressional franchise to broadcast, ABS-CBN has resorted to delighting its viewers through other means. Lately, they’ve been uploading historical editions of their flagship newscast, TV Patrol, marking important dates in the past three decades, perhaps to the delight of historians, television geeks, and so-called “lost media…

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8 months ago · 14 likes · Niko Batallones

And finally, here’s newspaper columnist on how it might all go wrong, considering some dream of a Nepal-like reckoning, and those living in Manila’s posh villages are starting to get jittery:

Where merit is little rewarded, where notions of civic responsibility are considered offensive, the only signifier of any difference is material; but if there can be mistaken identity online, imagine this. For every person gleefully sharing a video of a car fleeing angry mobs in Jakarta, there is at least one if not a dozen others seeing this, fearful of their car being attacked one day.

So long as there is a targeted list of spoiled, tasteless, ostentatious children of lawmakers and businesspeople caught with their hands in the cookie jar, there will be explosive online activity aplenty; but if it starts inching towards gated communities (and not only plutocrats live in these), there will be a creeping demand for… order. At all costs.

Read the whole post here.

Also, about our journalists.

One of the stories that’s tangled up in the whole ghost flood control project thing is one of the responsibility of the media in normalizing corruption. Early in the story arc, Pasig city mayor Vico Sotto called out media outfits who did personality profiles on Sarah and Curlee Discaya, government contractors and, in the case of the former, his opponent in local elections last May. He may have also implied that Korina Sanchez and Julius Babao—both television journalists who ended up doing vlogs on YouTube amidst the industry shake-up that happened during the pandemic and the ABS-CBN shutdown—received money for the interviews they did. Of course, that resulted in a little storm of its own.

But there are, indeed, questions about the role the media plays in dealing with these realities. There are definitely questions of unethical practices, of some journalists accepting payments from politicians—some allegations emerged as the story went along. All this comes amidst a backdrop of reduced trust in media—as an episode of The News Team podcast pointed out, if before Filipinos automatically distrusted politicians, now they automatically believed them, although Vico’s good governance bonafides certainly helped.

(I must note that while both interviews aired on television, they’re not productions of news outfits, but rather their own productions.)

There was a viral tweet a few weeks back saying that journalists should investigate these ghost flood control projects rather than report on the flooding. To that, I say, how can they do so in these times? Sometimes I feel my personal belief in journalism may be too old school for these times, but now, more than ever, we really should support journalists doing the right thing rather than demand them say what we want to hear.

previously worked for the likes of the Philippine Daily Inquirer, The Washington Post and The New York Times before joining Human Rights Watch as senior researcher. A few weeks back he dropped en episode of his Open Talk podcast, featuring Jonathan de Santos of the National Union of Journalists of the Philippines, Dean Diosa Labiste of the University of the Philippines and Ariel Sebellino of the Philippine Press Institute, where they discussed not just media ethics and self-regulation (a regime that emerged when freedom of the press returned to the Philippines in 1986) but also media ownership and the way forward. A line from the good dean:

These days, whether these news organizations are owned by oligarchs or big political clans, we are experiencing disinformation, fake news, declining trust in media, a serious decrease in revenues … and shake-ups in news organizations like the Philippine Daily Inquirer. And this led to the loss of jobs of journalists, and also the loss of avenues of public [discourse]. So your old business model of advertising revenues no longer holds. And … these groups … are looking for ways to increase their profit. So how do you create profit with the predominance of social media? The use of metrics, the analytics algorithm, the race to be noticed, pose a challenge to the practice and norms guiding journalism.

Watch the whole interview here.

Carlos H. Conde

THE DISCAYA FALLOUT: What we talk about when we talk about ethics in journalism in the Philippines

In Episode 3 of the #OpenTalk podcast, Carlos Conde tackles the brouhaha created by the revelation of media corruption by Pasig Mayor Vico Sotto and its implications for journalists and the Philippine media industry…

Listen now

8 months ago · Carlos H. Conde

And also, how we see and talk to each other.

One last piece for this round-up, and this has nothing to do with current events—although watching how we have reacted to the story as it unfolded, I can’t help but feel we’re choosing to harden our positions and exclude others with labels and counterlabels, rather than genuinely talking to others so we can get started on the change we so badly want to see. Consider that this is clearly beyond which side of the (non-existent Filipino) political aisle you are on, that we’re stumbling again into the project of unraveling and, maybe, getting rid of the endemic corruption in our value system. But no—what’s more important is we look better than others.

Why not stop and genuinely talk for a while?

I would like to apologize to for it might seem that I am shoehorning her piece into all that. But I stumbled upon her intensely personal essay a few days ago—a tribute to her friend Kurt, who passed away from cancer, and a piece on her regrets about not having connected with her more—and thought you deserve to see it too, and stat.

I had many opportunities to revive our friendship since the cancer diagnosis, but I only sent a few messages here and there. We did chat a lot when I revived my film photography hobby and organised a film swap before she got too sick. But we didn’t have voice calls, and our texts remained superficial at best.

My excuse is that life got too busy to maintain a friendship with a 13-hour time difference. The truth is that I couldn’t accept that my spirited and creative friend was dying. I didn’t want to acknowledge how devastated I was, and I didn’t know how to be a friend to someone with cancer. It never occurred to me that she might not want to discuss cancer at all. That maybe she wanted to hear about my tales of corporate woe to take her mind off the nausea and pain.

And so I did what I do best: I pretended it wasn’t happening. By refusing to talk to Kurt, I successfully avoided the emotional rollercoaster of hearing about her radiotherapy treatments, her miraculous remission, and the devastating emergence of malignant tumours throughout her body.

Read the whole post here.

Between Worlds

Badly-timed goodbyes and a final "I love you"

Kurt told me she was dying at the worst possible time: five minutes after an argument my mom, and weeks before my move to New Zealand…

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8 months ago · 6 likes · 2 comments · Lauren Dado

Stack Natin reached a milestone in the past month: we hit one hundred publications on our directory! To mark the milestone, you may have noticed a very slight rebrand, with thanks to for allowing me to bounce ideas off her.

Yes, there’s at least a hundred of us, including those who recently joined: , , , , , , , and . The directory is still open for your submissions, so join us if you’re of Filipino descent and writing on Substack. Or have a browse at the list and, maybe, spot your next favorite read.

Subscribe now

I must confess, I find myself a little harried as I put together this digest, between the day job and all the other things I somehow prioritized on top of it. But let me say this. This month’s collection is partly inspired by the second round of submissions that just closed, and the pieces I’m currently editing—look forward to seeing those guest posts in the coming months. For now, I have pieces about the people we look up to and the things we want from them… whether we say it out loud, or not.

Get on the list

Supreme entities

This first piece comes from , and comes months after the passing of Pope Francis. His passing last April was big news for this predominantly-Catholic country; he visited the Philippines back in 2015, a very eventful five days or so, filled with iconic images, like of him saying mass under a rainy sky in Tacloban, the city worst affected by typhoon Haiyan.

Ella reflects on her relationship with Pope Francis—you may be inclined to call it “parasocial” but I don’t think people with a strong sense of faith would agree with that—and with her faith as a whole. Her piece works two ways: as an explainer of just how ingrained Catholicism is in our country—although I say this acknowledging that roughy 10% of the population is Muslim, predominantly in the south—but also as a reflection of the conflict that one faces when they move out of the concept of religion as school lessons and markers in growing up, to something that has to square with all that’s going on today.

My very Catholic childhood impressed on me two things: that God is good, and that we must be good to others. Aren’t those the two greatest commandments? Christianity used to be simple. Be good. Do good. Avoid evil. And in the end, there is a God to save us all.

But the world tends to complicate those rules. Christianity becomes more difficult to grasp. These days, we are constantly confronted with evil: bigotry, war, discrimination, injustice, you name it—all cranked up to maximum volume. When laced with money and power, evil becomes harder to see and easier to excuse. How can we believe in an all-knowing, all-powerful God when He allows this to happen? Surely God hears the bombs? The screams of agony? The clamor for justice? Even as the Bible tells us to be good, to be accepting and forgiving, the Catholic Church has felt more like a punitive classroom than a sanctuary, one that scorns and scolds more than it comforts and heals.

Read the whole post here.

Ella Thinks Aloud

A Belated Eulogy for Pope Francis

On the day Pope Francis died, I spent the night bawling my eyes out. The news didn’t stick immediately. It came to me like any other piece of global news. But as I doomscrolled through Pope Francis-related content, the waterworks came, and they were impossible to stop. Since then, I’ve been unable to watch any reel or read any tweet without tearing up, …

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10 months ago · 1 like · Ella Mae Masamayor

It reminded me of a piece that I had read months ago from mental health advocate , where she also explores her own relationship with her faith. Her questions led her to declare herself an atheist, only to find herself reassessing everything thanks to a bunch of work requirements.

When it was my turn to talk, the only thing I could share with them was that my personal trials and tribulations did not make me any stronger. It only made me angry at whoever God was, and I was actually jealous of them as they could still view this being with such gratitude. I was expecting some cruelty, the familiar rhetoric spat out by the ultra-religious that I’ve always been surrounded with: this is happening to you because you do not pray enough, you should go to church more often to rid yourself of such misfortunes. But everyone was silent, no ounce of judgment permeating the sacred space. All they did was look at me, nod, and let me speak. To be seen that way without being asked to change was enough to make me weep on the ride back home.

Read the whole post here.

People with professional prefixes and suffixes

Now, a slight diversion in tone. This piece from is both funny and also familiar, because it captures the Filipino’s tendency—or maybe just some families?—to turn to a family member with a fancy title for free help. She’s a doctor, so she talks about the feeling of being asked to give prescriptions and diagnoses gratis. I’m not a doctor, but I remember being asked constantly if I’m pursuing law—what else is a communications degree but a pre-law degree? and besides, I’m “smart” and all that shit—and since I said no, well, why am I not pursuing law? Why, so they can get free legal advice? I can’t even ask that from my cousin, who actually is a lawyer.

Having a doctor in the family does not mean you now have 24/7 access to free medical advice. This does not mean you can volunteer your doctor relative’s services to all your friends. Please do not message these doctors your friends’ signs and symptoms and expect them to reply to you with a prescription just like that.

Before publishing Mindy reminded me of a current… “furor” going on at the moment in the Filipino zeitgeist, with broadcaster Ramon Tulfo criticizing a surgeon for daring to charge a professional fee. Not the first time he’s done it, I recall. The Tulfos are pretty popular—their brand of “instant” made-for-broadcast justice has led to two of his brothers being elected as senators—so this story gaining traction only tells me a significant number of Filipinos feel the same way. “Why not give it to us free instead, if you’re really here to help?” There’s a lot to untangle here, and I don’t have the space… or the bandwidth. Thanks, work.

Read the whole post here.

Mindful Mindy

So you now have a doctor in the family

Maybe your son/daughter/niece/nephew/cousin/godson/goddaughter/neighbor/ kabarkada/family friend just passed the PLE. What an achievement. Becoming a doctor truly takes a village, so if you were part of their journey in whatever way, kudos…

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9 months ago · 4 likes · 4 comments · Mindy

Back to the family tree

Okay, slight diversion over. Back to family back stories, and to this piece from , who talks about watching her parents split up, having to live with her relatives, and being promised by an uncle for a truck full of Milo. I wonder how she responds to the idea of Milo Dinosaur.

I was crazy about Milo when I was four.

One night, though, we ran out of the chocolate malt powder. Already accustomed to having a hot cup of it before bedtime, I cried.

To comfort me, one of my uncles said we'd get Milo the next day.

“A truckload of it,” he promised, assuring me we would never run out of it ever again.

Of course, the idea of having that much Milo thrilled me at the time, and before I knew it, I was already smiling.

Read the whole post here.

Eating My Feelings

Milo Madness

I was crazy about Milo when I was four…

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9 months ago · 4 likes · 1 comment · Mina Deocareza

Still on the topic of parents, talks about her relationship with her father, his relationship with her mother—they’re not together at this point, I think—and all the regrets that might manifest in the little things he ends up doing forn the writer.

sometimes i think he takes care of me not just because he’s my father but because i’m his last link to her. the one he couldn’t keep, the one he chose and still lost. i wonder if when he looks at me, he sees pieces of her: the shape of my mouth, the way i argue, the same quiet defiance and fire. maybe that’s why he’s sometimes unkind—why love from him feels like punishment, like devotion and penance in equal measure.

maybe i remind him of everything he did wrong.

maybe that’s why he stays.

maybe that’s why it still hurts.

Read the whole post here.

what i lie awake about at night

puso ng saging

a few days ago, my dad told me to bring with me a tupperware of paksiw na puso ng saging when i go home to my mom’s. “favorite niya yan,” he said, not even using her name or referring to her as my mom. but i knew exactly who he meant…

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9 months ago · 2 likes · 1 comment · summer ✮⋆˙.ᐟ

And finally… messages from the other side?

Finally, we check back on , whose guest post a few months back saw her tracing her lineage, perhaps in a bid to keep her mother going despite her cancer diagnosis. She passed before that piece was published, and on the occasion of what would’ve been her 62nd birthday, Reg talked about hoping to feel her mother’s presence. But what do you consider signs, and when does it feel like you’re considering everything as a sign?

Probably the most paramdam Mommy has done is that when Paul and I are on dates, we sometimes hear Taylor Swift songs play in the mall or restaurant or cafe we’re in. But that’s it. And there was none of this the past weekend! So yeah, kinda frustrating.

Some people have told me that it just means Mommy is very peaceful with God, which is why we don’t hear anything from her.

But honestly, I think the explanation is that Mommy just wants me to find her in things myself.

Read the whole post here.

A Constant Nostalgia

Are you there, Mommy? It's me, Ginny.

Thanks for reading A Constant Nostalgia! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work…

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10 months ago · 15 likes · 10 comments · Regina Peralta 🇵🇭

Before I wrap, let’s say hello to those who joined the Stack Natin directory in the past month: , and ! You can, of course, join the directory if you’re on Substack and are Filipino or of Filipino descent. Or you can browse the directory and maybe find your next favorite read. We’re almost a hundred publications strong, by the way!

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“I think memories of places are memories of the people you went there with.”
—Iwakura Mitsumi, Skip and Loafer

I was watching the carefree-yet-deep anime series Skip and Loafer as I put together this month’s digest. Actually, I was rewatching it, trying to squeeze in a whole season the day before it left Netflix. I wasn’t expecting the above quote from the third episode—when Mitsumi, a child prodigy from the provinces who moved to Tokyo to study high school, got to visit the Shibuya district for the first time—to be relevant to this compilation of pieces, which I thought would be about how hard living in Philippine cities can be. But, well, here we are, and here we go.

Get on the list

What used to be here, and what still is

describes herself as a “print futurist”, which I always found interesting considering the state of the media form we both so love these days—and, also, her thing for collecting typewriters. She’s been using those to make a zine, dubbed The Obsœlite, of which there are now four editions.

It’s the second I’ve had my eye on, about brutalist architecture, and specifically the brutalist buildings that remain in Makati, the country’s financial center. It is true that a lot of these structures have been taken down, thanks to the steady pace of redevelopment, the rising value of land, and our undeclared love of shiny towers. France is one of many who are calling for what remains to be preserved, as it acts as a mirror to the story of Makati—once marshland that was developed by some enterprising oligarchs into the commercial hub that it is today.

As I did my late afternoon walk, from multiple angles, you can spot how the financial center needs serious self-reflection. Some suggest a massive facelift, while others say it’s only delaying the natural death of a city center. Many buildings that were built decades ago are now gathering rust, cracks, and cobwebs. Yet somehow, the Brutalist buildings stand tall and proud, and I bet they will continue to encapsulate the unique personality of Makati.

Say what you will about Brutalism being for the reconstruction of war-torn places, Makati was co-built with both grit and ingenuity that is Brutalist. Makati may be a city in a midlife crisis, but it shouldn’t focus on copying the others; instead, it should stick to its strongest suit of being authentic, diverse, and edgy.

There is a group of people who are keen to expose and preserve the Philippines’ Brutalist legacy, primarily through a visual database on Instagram as well as the occasional event. (And this recent feature on style bible Wallpaper.) It’s fascinating how Brutalist structures changes its vibe depending on the context of its construction and its surroundings… although many do end up missing it all because it’s not “beautiful”. Take renowned architect Leandro Locsin, who designed several of these structures in Makati… as well as the main theater of the Cultural Center of the Philippines, very much a part of Imelda Marcos’ “edifice complex”… as well as the Benguet Center, which has since been demolished and turned into just another mall.

Read the whole post here.

The Obsœlite

The Obsœlite Zine #002

Brutalist buildings were my unavoidable muse this past two weeks in the concrete jungle that was Makati City…

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a year ago · 23 likes · 6 comments · France Pinzon

This reminds me of a piece that published on her Substack last month, but was actually penned five years ago.

We bought custom-made school shoes
at what’s now called Cubao Expo
but I remember it by another name.
I would get on a Fiesta Carnival ride
after ballet class at SM or grocery shopping.
Now a well-lit hypermart occupies the exact same space.

Some people call this progress
or gentrification, but it is erasure.
The Cubao I knew slipped away
and I learned how to grieve the loss.
And then it spread to our house.
My lolo passed, then lola. My uncle.
City static started to overwhelm me.
By the time dad died I’d moved away.

Read the whole post here.

Miao? Wow!

Mátulain: Lessons From Somewhere Else

Mátulain is not just a series focusing on my poetry—instead, it follows my continuing love story with the art. Full disclosure: This is something I wrote on April 2, 2020…

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10 months ago · 4 likes · ¿Miao?

What we remember might soon fade away

Whether it’s because our media is Manila-centric, or because we are 7,000 islands big, or because we are just forgetful, the memory of large-scale incidents and disasters tend to fade after a while.

was born in Cagayan de Oro, a major port city in the southern part of the Philippines. I’ve been there a couple of times, and I always get the impression that it’s a city in between realizing its potential—being home to the region’s biggest port means a lot of trade goes through it—and outgrowing its long-time small city status, the sort where everybody seems to know everyone, or at least those known on a last-name basis. Fourteen years ago, it was also badly hit by tropical storm Washi (locally known as Sendong), when the rivers that divide the city overflowed, in the middle of the night, resulting in over a thousand deaths.

Some family members and friends literally hanged on for dear life while we slept. We had no idea how people cried for help while they saw their parent or child swallowed by the river at the dark of night.

For a very long time, I distanced myself from that disaster. I decided to stay at home. I skipped the news. It was how I dealt with the guilt and the collective trauma that fell all of us. I did not want to go downtown. I dismissed the tragedy as something that did not happen in my memory. I was guilty that I slept throughout that night. I kept that inside me for a very long time.

Of course we’re no stranger to these storms. Typhoon Haiyan, which hit eastern Visayas just two years later, remains one of the deadliest storms that hit the country, and up to now it seems just a distant memory, a part of the lore, but with the lessons still just out of our reach. Not even the fact that Manila itself saw such a deluge with typhoon Ketsana seems to have moved the needle much.

More than a decade now, I feel like people are starting to forget about the flood. There aren’t as many films, advocacies, and efforts around it. The memorial wall that lists down the names of those who were taken away by the river stand in the middle of the park near the church. It is lonely. Like a forgotten relic. I am not sure if it is a sign of moving forward or a sign of collectively forgetting a significant part of the city’s modern history.

Read the whole post here.

Weekend Leftovers

on (almost) drowning

This weekend I went whitewater rafting. A first time for someone who was born and grew up in Cagayan de Oro whose banner tourism experience is centered around this activity. Long story short, I fell from the raft in the middle of a major rapid into the raging river where I panicked to surface for air. I am okay now. I have survived in order to tell you …

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10 months ago · 6 likes · brian

What once was might no longer be

I must admit I felt a little guilty while reading the first half of this piece from As someone who hasn’t been in their shoes, and would never want to be in their shoes, am I reading this to feel pity? To know what to avoid? I’m not sure exactly. But we don’t see a lot of writing about literally not having a place to go home to—not having a place where you can just plop down and call it a day, maybe—and seeing this was felt confronting, initially.

It was a haunting, distressing, dehumanizing experience I still could not fathom to this day. It was just recently over. I am still wondering if it truly was done, or there was something worse waiting to jump on me, on a random day. Impending danger keeps me tense; I never truly know when it will end. It was humiliating to be on beck and call to the people handling my housing. Even something as simple as the wrong paper used for printing could lead to denying housing needs. It’s embarrassing to sit and wait in their paper-white offices, the clerks seemingly uncaring and unforgiving in their issued statements. It’s stupid for me, at least, to be there the entire day, hanging on someone’s words on whether I go home, or be sleepless again for another night.

Stories like these tend to be invisible simply because we don’t want to see it. I’m no saint. When someone tries to beg for money while I’m at a stop light, I furiously wave my hands, and then check if my windows are locked because, believe it or not, my cat has opened a window to them at some point. In these times when we’re surrounded by people who are quick to judge us by one single action and condemn us as a red flag for the rest of our lives, I can’t help but think: does this make me an irretrievably evil person?

But then, in almost a lot of these instances there really is little we can do. And that is why I felt confronted, initially, by Zo’s story. What would I have done if I was in their position? Or, if I was in their circle, and had the opportunity to give them some relief?

The Philippines—and specifically Manila—being an unforgiving place means while we plow through our problems, we risk being insensitive to others’. A 2023 study by the Joly Homes Foundation and the Association Soeur Emmanuelle Philippines states there are roughly 4.5 million homeless people in the Philippines, and most of them are in the capital.

Read the whole post here.

Zo’s Substack

25, homeless, camping in convenience stores and cafes

Imagine this: bright afternoon sun hot against the pavement, the road congested with trucks and private vehicles. One wrong turn from them could take you out, only trying to find shade in the steaming, melting weather. No air was cool enough to dry the sweat off your skin, from the shirt clinging to your drenched shoulder. You do not know where to go, s…

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a year ago · zo is online!

And yet, we’re free

I’m somehow compelled to end this on a more upbeat note, and sure, ’s piece is not exactly it, I feel that it explains why, despite everything that’s been said, people are attracted to the city.

Consider me. I never thought of it this way before, but growing up in Cavite for most of my life—and thus being far away from a lot of things, at least until urbanization started creeping further away from the centers—meant the decision to move to the capital is (and I hate hate hate having to put it this way) a way of healing my inner child. Sure, here I battle loneliness and worthlessness, but I am also literally in the middle of everything, and I am free to go wherever I want, whenever I want. (Except for Makati. Sorry, France; I refuse to give my traumas a fighting chance.)

Anyway, Bee talks about going to Manila, a place she doesn’t really have fond memories of, as it’s not Quezon City, where she grew up. (Manila is one city. Metro Manila—the whole National Capital Region—is sixteen cities and one municipality, including Makati, and Quezon City, and Mandaluyong, the city I should be leaving if I’m talking about not giving my traumas a chance.)

What makes it different from other Manilas I have remembered in passing? What makes four hours matter more than the combined hours that field trips, DFA appointments and Manila Bay walks had?

Novelty, perhaps. Branding itself, making itself known in memory.

Or, alternatively, maybe it was happiness.

As I write this, I read a later entry from Bee that I might highlight in a future digest, if only because the pain felt familiar to me. Is it the same person? I wonder.

Read the whole post here.

bee's hive

this city is not mine, but i’ll take it anyway

Greed makes you want things you never knew you wanted. In this case, I want a city that was never mine in the first place…

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10 months ago · 3 likes · bee

Are you Filipino, or of Filipino descent, and are writing on Substack? We’ve got a directory of folks like you (and me) and we’re accepting submissions to it year round. Send your details over here, or have a taste of what else Filipino writers have to offer here. Oh, and speaking off, the second Stack Natin submission round ends on 25 July, so if you’re up to it, check out the details here!

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If I was actively waiting for a turning point three years after the end of a long-term relationship and doubting whether it even was a thing in a first place, the past few weeks would have been it. Between representing the Philippines at an APEC event in South Korea, a radio interview that may have been a little more consequential than I first imagined, and several big projects being fully realized, this feels like me stepping on a whole new step: moving on, moving up, moving ahead.

And yet I still ask myself if I deserve to be here.

I don’t think it’s solely my own self-doubts at play here. I think it’s something we all generally feel as we find ourselves in the midst of some huge transitions, whether in our own lives, or in the settings we find ourselves in. There’s excitement in realizing you’re there; there’s trepidation in realizing you’re definitely going to lose something you’ve held on to, and gain something you might not even want in the first place. So, of course, we’re writing about it.

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Birthdays (growing older)

Is it cheating if I set the stage with an essay that’s technically three years old and not originally published on Substack? At least that’s what said this post was about—written on the occasion of her birthday, and now brought over to this platform, lightly edited and with added narration, which brings the added dimension of reality to words. (And made me wonder which on-screen characters she has voiced for.)

And in any case, the sentiments she made in her piece are universal: crossing a human-defined threshold (in this case, turning 30) and finding yourself wondering if you are in the right place.

When I identified as a 30-year-old, I wondered: Am I just being pretentious? Did I pompously consider myself a full-fledged adult because I now live on my own and enjoy unlimited sangrias and roll with cool and sexy ladies like Ana and Robbie?

But as I thought more about why I’m so drawn to them, I realized that it isn’t so much about the optics of growing up as it is about the promise of having lived more years. These two feisty, funny, and fiercely independent women show me that growing older, as the adage says, can make you wiser.

Isn’t that amazing? How every year of your life can promise clearer lenses and sharper senses?

Read the whole post here.

Skinny Deep

#46 The Thrill of Growing Older

Hello! In my last newsletter where I talked about loose commitments, I briefly mentioned the humbling effect of growing older, which reminded me of my birthday essay published on Medium three years ago. So I decided I’d bring it here, lightly edited …

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a year ago · 7 likes · 3 comments · Ria Tagulinao

Another birthday post, this time from writer and creative , and this one’s specifically about literally moving to a new place.

It’s a miracle to talk about it this way. When exactly one year ago, I felt like dying. The very idea of moving away was so overwhelming, swallowing me whole for days at a time. To leave the home we had stayed in the longest on record was like cutting flesh. I cried for days. If only grief alone could pay for our move. The younger versions of me bubbling back up to the surface. An ache more than 20 years in the making. It took months for me to recover, to unclench, to believe that all the time and resources were worth it. To slowly settle into this new life that brings me peace and even some joy.

Read the whole post here.

Flying by night

34 @ zipcode 1229

Time is very different here. It is very good…

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a year ago · 12 likes · 1 comment · Toni Potenciano

Birthdays (being born)

I spotted a couple of posts in the last few weeks that revolve around pregnancies, and at the risk of sounding nonchalant, they can’t be any different from each other.

The first one’s from , who’s counting down the days to the birth of her second child. (By the time you read this, she’s probably already given birth, so advanced—or belated—congratulations from Stack Natin!) Her piece focuses on the adjustments she (and her husband) had to make to accommodate what’s ahead, even if they may sound a little counterintuitive.

In February, I began to take on extra editing work—to help save money for hospital bills when our second child arrives. That meant clocking extra hours at night, often when my pregnant body was begging for rest and my brain was already in sleep mode. It’s been a stretch—physically, mentally, and emotionally. But even in the middle of the hustle, I’ve been learning to carve out quiet times of refreshment: cooking my favorite meals, releasing my poetry collection, and even writing short fiction. The stretch is necessary, but so is the stillness. One keeps me moving forward; the other keeps me grounded.

I’m also keen to highlight a later line she wrote.

Stability isn’t the absence of change—it’s the choice to stay rooted in the middle of it. And maybe that is what God is teaching me most in this season: that even when I feel like a ticking time bomb, I can build a quiet steadiness deep within—not on my own strength, but with His.

Read the whole post here.

notes from the dining table

Treading slowly, treading lightly

I’m counting the days until our second child arrives. And with the counting comes the pressure—the strange, tense feeling of being a ticking time bomb. I’m excited, grateful, stretched, and overwhelmed, all at once. Some days, I feel deeply called; others days, I just feel deeply tired. And I realized that no matter how much we try to brace for the impa…

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a year ago · 8 likes · 5 comments · Dominique Gonzaga-Sulatra

On the other end is this piece from , who talks about losing her daughter during pregnancy.

Some have asked what my daughter’s name means. Ayli means “smile” in Kapampangan. A name I spent months mulling over, and a name I had to quickly decide on because we were on the way to the hospital.

I never got to see Ayli smile, so I like to think that I’ll be honouring her by doing all the smiling for her instead. As much as I can for the rest of my life, despite not being much of a smiler myself. Most days, my smiles are forced, but I smile nonetheless. Because it’s the badge that I swore I’d wear for her.

I’ve been sitting with this piece for a while. This happened to my family. We were supposed to be four siblings, but my mother miscarried when she was pregnant with our supposed youngest sibling. I think I was 8 or 9 then. My parents must’ve tried their hardest to insulate us from what is essentially a death in the family. All I remember is that they had to be in hospital, and the baby had to be removed from her body. I don’t remember seeing any tears.

I’ve encountered many similar stories since. A good friend of mine lost her twins, for instance. Showbiz reports in the news sometimes touch on female celebrities miscarrying. That probably trivializes things a little bit. You can’t really convey the pain effectively on a two-minute news package, especially the fact that it doesn’t really go away.

I’m thankful for the good days. The good days matter because they are a reprieve from the constant ache. They’re a soft pause in the unrelenting hum of heartbreak. Emphasis on the words soft pause. They’re not a sign that the grief has lessened, only that, for a fleeting moment, I’ve found enough air to breathe a little deeper, to laugh without guilt, to remember without crumbling. The good days don’t erase the sorrow, they simply make space for me to carry it with more grace.

But somehow, the good days also don’t matter, because as the days go by, the wounds are still just as fresh as day zero.

But then, humanity was never really good with grief. The turmoil is indescribable, and from the outside, there’s little we can truly do.

Read the whole post here.

Jion Legaspi

Notes on grief: Smiling like I mean it

Today is Mother’s Day, and if luck were on my side, I would have had a nearly 6-month-old baby girl right now…

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a year ago · 11 likes · Jion Legaspi

Should I stay or should I go?

This is when the digest decidedly turns into thirtysomething territory. I will try my best to still accommodate everyone.

Our 20s is supposedly when we figure things out; our 30s, on the other hand, is supposedly when we already have. But of course things are messier than intended. I’m 36 and I’m still figuring things out, and I’m sure I’m not alone. But some adamantly believe folks like us who still aren’t “there” at this point are either extending their youths or are immature enough to even get past it… ah, whatever.

I’ve been thinking about this piece from lawyer and educator . This is, ostensibly, about missing a concert from Norwegian pop duo M2M, but—and I suppose this echoed a lot more because I write about pop culture on my own publication—is about much more, besides. Not just the concert, nor the new EP they released.

The way Marion and Marit stripped it down in 2025 gave it an almost haunting quality. Their obviously more mature singing voices? They can tell a different story now, perhaps of a woman in her late 30s to 40s taking one last shot at love. Or how that unresolved, final minor chord in the track makes the mood unsure, even forlorn. Nostalgia targeted at people in my age group makes for a quick cash grab, but I’d like to believe M2M’s comeback is quite different. Their exclusive interview with Elle Norway tells us as much: it was pure chance, then reconciliation, and finally something more deliberate and future-looking.

Read the whole post here.

spin-offs

To Witness is to Bear

I have come to terms that this Substack mostly contains the outtakes of my more structured, formal observations of the world. Yes, I mainly write about the law and sometimes politics, but this space has shaped up to be my running record of pop culture, nostalgia, and their many uses. This entry isn’t so much different, but lately I’ve been thinking how …

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a year ago · 6 likes · Ross Tugade

On the flipside, our cohort finding resonance and solace in pop culture could also be seen as a backward step. I mean, not me, but some. I’m thinking particularly of how you have “tita” K-pop fans going all out when their favorite groups visit the country. (How’s your Festa-slash-reunion week going, tita Armys?) But, as reminds us, we really shouldn’t be speeding towards our new phases. We ride our transitions one way: the way we judge to be the best.

Sometimes, I find myself pouring over old journal entries or little scribbles here and there. I read entries from previous years, and I like that I can see where I was a year, 2, 3, 4, 5, years ago. 2018 and 2019 Alyssas were definitely very different from each other. And they are certainly very different from 2025 Alyssa.

Like the way we grow around grief, we grow around our experiences, too—both the good and the bad. I read about the things that had me write paragraphs and paragraphs ranting about certain topics and cringe about how petty I sounded. How immature. But I keep them despite being tempted to delete them (haha!) just so they remind me about where I’ve been.

Read the whole post here.

Wabi-Sabi Aly

Outgrowing, growing around, growing into

Outgrowing…

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a year ago · 4 likes · 2 comments · Alyssa Chua

Before I wrap up, let’s say hello to four new additions to the Stack Natin directory in the past month: , , and !

The directory is open year-round to writers on Substack who are Filipino or of Filipino descent. You can join us by punching in your details here, or you can explore the whole list here.

And also, we’re accepting submissions—fiction or creative non-fiction on “wise men and women”, until 25 July.

Subscribe now

It was election day in the Philippines earlier this week. Sure, it’s the midterms—all local positions, plus half of the Senate—but it is still consequential if you can’t help but follow the country’s political ups and downs. And even if you aren’t, you still wouldn’t be able to help but notice how the past few months saw different narratives on where the country is now and where we should be headed come together. Are we turning a corner, and should we work to stay in the upward trajectory we are in? Are we plunging ourselves into darkness, and should we rescue ourselves before we go even deeper?

Nope, this month’s digest is not going to be overtly political—although, really, can one help it?—but it is inspired by how these narratives are formed, and how these voices shape us both in good ways and bad. Or so I think. It’s a pretty loose thread, but there are some really good pieces I can’t wait to highlight.

Get on the list

Figures of the past

I’ve had history on my mind in the last few weeks, especially as and I worked on her guest post—if you haven’t seen it yet, you should. Anyway, it’s no surprise that a couple of pieces touching on history, and particularly on personal history, caught my attention.

First up is (once again) . Her piece was supposed to mark International Women’s Month, although it dropped in April, because, as she tells it, she wasn’t quite happy with how it initially turned out. Don’t let that disclaimer get in the way. This is an arresting piece about her grandmother, Lupe, and how she met nam’s eventual grandfather in the early days of the Japanese invasion of the Philippines. I’m not sure why she wasn’t happy with the piece, but I personally like how it resisted the urge to be something bigger; how, in focusing on one anecdote, it said so, so much.

The soldier from outside followed her in and stood beside her.

This is it, she braced herself. He’s going to tell me to leave.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he asked, “What would you like to order?”

That’s how she learned his name: Dominador.

“But you can call me Ador,” he added.

“Guadalupe,” she replied. “You can call me Lupe.”

She also learned that this was his family’s eatery, and the two behind the counter were his parents. Lupe only asked for a glass of water. But Ador brought her a plate of pansit, too.

“On the house,” he said. “But you have to tell me your story. It looks like you have one.”

I wish I could write like this.

Read the whole post here.

mellow musings

Lupe

When Lupe was in her teens, her father took her up a mountain in Sorsogon, carrying only a few belongings. The war had reached their doorstep. The Japanese were taking over, trying to claim the Philippines from the Americans, who had just won it back from Spain after three hundred years of rule…

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a year ago · 12 likes · 9 comments · nam

A second piece of personal history—although this one’s a little newer—comes from teacher and former journalist . His father-in-law, Lolo Mar, passed late in April, and in his post he shares his recollections of a man who, as it turns out, has a lot in common with him.

Years ago, Lolo Mar responded quickly when I lost consciousness, having been sick for days. My blood sugar went down (hypoglycemia), and for a diabetic, that could lead to shock. I remember him rubbing my chest when I woke up and whispering to me in Ilocano, “Wake up; you still have your kids and family to take care of.” He thought I was gone. I thought I was gone.

Lolo Mar was always part of my family, having lived with us for quite some time. He had his little room at home. Next to him are books he borrowed, a transistor radio (back when we had one), bottled water, and meds. Near the night desk, he had a handy meter, which he would use to check his blood pressure when he felt dizzy. I had mine, too. So we laughed once at the idea that we were “classmates” for having the same medical conditions: hypertension and diabetes.

Read the whole post here.

Short Sentences

Newsletter #18: Remembering Lolo Mar and my stories about him

(UPDATED)The last two to three weeks went by so fast…

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a year ago · 3 likes · Erwin Oliva

Concerns of the present

Weeks ago, a shocking tidbit emerged from a Senate hearing: over 18 million of the country’s high school graduates can be considered “functionally illiterate”, meaning they have problems comprehending what they have just read.

The story may have whizzed by to most—considering it was the height of campaign season, it’s sad, but also inevitably—but not to me. I immediately had a chat about it with a friend of mine who works as an educator. So does this mean it comes in one ear and goes out of the other? Pretty much, he said. I know some of this is because of our education system, but could it also be because of our shorter attention spans thanks to smartphones and social media? Could be, he said.

is founder and executive director of the Center for Art, New Ventures and Sustainable Development (CANVAS), a non-profit that works with the creative community to promote children’s literacy, advance national identity, and deepen appreciation for Filipino art and culture. He is also an award-winning children’s book author. I’ve had my eye on his Substack for a while now, and I wasn’t surprised to see his measured—but also, foreboding, but not alarmist—take on the story.

Essentially, he argues that the rise of functional illiteracy should be considered a political issue, as it threatens the very foundations of Philippine democracy and allows essential discourse to be replaced by spectacle. Perhaps more importantly, he puts the blame squarely on folks like me, we who look down on these people, dismiss them as hopeless cases.

This is not their failure. It is ours. We - the supposed better educated, more well-read, more privileged - are the beneficiaries of an educational system from which others have been locked out of. Unless we actively work to dismantle these barriers and extend those same opportunities to others, we are not just witnesses to inequality. We are complicit participants in its perpetuation.

So what do we do?

We start by treating education not as a favor, but as a right. We start by seeing books not as gifts, but as vaccines against ignorance, against disinformation, against tyranny disguised as charisma. We stop thinking of ensuring access to books as charity, and start treating it as civic infrastructure.

But then, it’s easier to scream into our echo chambers that they should vote for our preferred candidates, and then dismiss them as “bobo” (stupid) when we don’t get the results we want. (That said, some of the “good governance” candidates did surprisingly well in the elections, so I haven’t seen a lot of these lines yet. Maybe they are choosing to see the silver lining instead of dwelling on the pro-Duterte cohorts also doing well. Whoops. Sorry for getting too political.)

Read the whole post here.

This piece brings to mind a piece from another educator, , about something that hits me close to home… because I am a guy.

What is astonishing is that this whole system of thinking, the whole way of looking at the world, has been ignored for so long. It is only now, when we see a wholly different, much more woman-hating version of it rise, that people are starting to think we have to do something about it.

Only after the TV show “Adolescence” are people thinking of talking to boys about misogyny. And for most people, talking about this is very strange. As my students wrote, after I discussed Incel Culture with them in class, it has been ignored for such a long time, and yet it is so important to open a discussion about this, because this culture already has deep influences in our young men. As one of my students said, older people (like me) often just ignore it, and they don’t know that this is already how some of their children think, because of the internet.

If I’m being honest, I’ve been a little afraid to speak out on these matters. I feel that, as a guy, my opinions on how we are being portrayed—how we are being generalized because of a few bad apples—are automatically invalid because of my gender identity, of what genitalia I possess. I’m also aware that my perspective can be painfully specific and thus is not applicable to everyone, and therefore not that easy to empathize with. (I mean, I know for a fact that women can also cheat on their partners, like men, and yet somehow the former’s is an act of independence and the latter’s is just their nature to fuck anything that moves.) But this really is a conversation we ought to have… and the best place to start is to not vilify anyone just because of what they’re born with.

But, again, easier said than done.

Read the whole post here.

A Marikit Moment

We Cannot Ignore Our Boys (and Men)

Being a man is hard…

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a year ago · 3 likes · 6 comments · mataraykween 🇵🇭💜

Seeing the future

There’s something difficult to explain about why ’ piece is so gripping. There is the narrative she tells, of a love unfolding, a love unfurling—of the act of choosing to jump over the fence to better understand each other, of choosing to meet halfway, despite the pain and suffering, and then going on the rest of the journey together.

And then there’s the fact that Angelica’s metaphor is figuring out a shared language—I think the other subject in the piece is Japanese?—and then writing this piece entirely in Filipino. It forces us to meet halfway as well, to make the effort to see things from her perspective.

Now, I am born and raised in the Philippines, and can converse in Filipino pretty easily. But writing in our national language does not come easily to me. There’s something different about its rhythms, about how its words come together to become more than the sum of its parts, that I haven’t truly mastered. So, in the case of this piece, I read it out loud, with all the emotion I could muster.

Or maybe you could use Google Translate, as Angelica herself said. You can do that with the whole piece, but I’ll do my best to (manually) translate my favorite bit.

Siguro nga, may lumalaya sa aking matagal nang gustong kumawala. Pero mas akma sigurong sabihin na may bumabalik sa aking matagal nang nawawala. Ang ako na walang takot sumubok, at hindi ang ako na palaging nakatanaw sa hangganan sa kagustuhang tumakas tuwing nauubusan na ng lakas. Ang ako na gustong matuto sa bawat tamang desisyon at gayon din sa bawat pagkakamali. Ang ako na hindi takot magkamali. Ang ako na parating nag-aalab ang damdamin para sa mga kailangan pang danasin sa ngalan ng mga pangarap, hindi ang ako na ginawa nang kapansanan ang pagluluksa. Hindi ang ako na habambuhay nangungulila sa batang hindi na muling nakalabas mula sa silid na bumago sa buhay niya mahigit dalawampung taon na ang nakakaraan. Pumasok siyang buo at lumabas siyang hindi na kailan pang muli. Pinatay siya roon at namatay pa siya nang paulit-ulit.

Maybe something inside of me that’s long wanted to get out is being set free. But perhaps it’s more apt to say that something is coming back to me, something that had long been lost. The me that is not afraid to try, and not the me that’s always gazing at the horizon, wanting to escape whenever I am running out of strength. The me that wants to learn from every right decision, as well as every wrong one. The me that is not afraid to make mistakes. The me whose heart burns for all that I still have to go through in the name of my dreams, not the me that made a crutch out of my grief. Not the me that is forever yearning for the child that never got out of the room that changed her life over twenty years ago. She came in whole and went out never to be that again. She was killed in there, and she was killed again, and again.

Even I am sure I haven’t captured the oomph of what she was saying. And I kept on reading, out loud, even if I was having painful flashbacks of my own.

Read the whole post here.

the space inked between

Lengguwahe Natin

Author’s note: To all my foreign readers, please bear with me as this essay is written in Tagalog. I will try my best to write a good enough translation, but right now, Google Translate will have to suffice if you still want to proceed with reading. …

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a year ago · 7 likes · 2 comments · Angelica Teves

Before I wrap up, a hello to the newest additions to the Stack Natin directory in the last four weeks: , , , , , and

The directory is filled with fresh voices and perspectives from writers of Filipino descent from across the world. Check out their publications on the list here—and if you’re keen to be on the list too, sign up at any time.

Oh, and also, Stack Natin’s second round of submissions is currently ongoing!

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In the Christian tradition, Holy Week marks the events leading to the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. In the Philippines, it also means several days off, which many of us spend going on holidays, sometimes in foreign lands, but more often back to our home provinces. Not so much a holiday, then, but a homecoming.

As a kid who had to go with the whole clan on a 16-hour drive to Ilocos Norte, it was a chance to see different things, maybe hear different things on the radio, and ultimately swim in the river and pick tomatoes that are very much unripe. But coming home means different things to different people, of course. This month’s digest is kind of timed to coincide with this mass exodus of the Philippine capital—but really, there just was many pieces on coming home, and building home, filtering through that I thought it was worth spotlighting.

Get on the list

Coming home

Eventually I stopped going with those family trips. I had grown up, of course, and was interested in other things, and one of them was not spending time with conservative, misogynistic relatives. I suppose it also helped that I did not really have a strong connection with my grandfather’s hometown, it being just a place I went to once a year to, well, pick unripe tomatoes.

Of course, this is different for a lot of people. is born the Philippines but is now based in the United States. She recently returned to her hometown and, while everything has changed, it may very well be that she needed to come back home all along.

Over the course of 3 weeks, I got a long, hard look at what my life could have been like if I never left. To live in a house with three generations of my family. To eat dinner with great cousins I’ve never met before. To be in walking distance with people I love. To have social connections embedded in my day to day life. To witness karaoke casually happening in the streets (like, hello? I love my people!). To eat dishes with produce from my family’s land. To play with my cousin’s kids and have them remember my name.

I wanted a vacation and I didn’t get it. Instead, my body relearned what it was like to be held by my aunts, uncles, and cousins. My spirit now remembers what it’s like to be seen effortlessly and without explanation. I got to see my mother and sister be surrounded by their tribes and for my dad’s needs to be taken care of by people outside of our nuclear family.

Read the whole post here.

from the notes app

a homecoming trip is not a vacation

After 10 years, I went back home to the motherland (Pilipinas🇵🇭). The last time I was there, I was in my teens, swimming in hormones, and continued to strongly pull on the thread of ‘home’. I was still close enough to who I was when I first left that I felt like I was on familiar ground…

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a year ago · 30 likes · 8 comments · jaz

On the flipside, there’s : for her, returning to her home country led her to grapple with what she has left behind, and the life she is trying to build in Belfast, where she is now based.

Perhaps, I have outgrown a phase of my life and I am building a new sense of self that is finally not tied to things I’ve gotten used to. Maybe part of the necessary pains of growing up (I feel weird saying this as a person in her 30s but I suppose it never ends) is to shed things that have caused you hurt for so long when you have the convenient opportunity to start over, again. I realize these things are mostly related to people, but what is a place if not made by the various persons we encounter along the way? Everything about this place will always hold a special place in my heart and my identity, but I think I’m ready to shed my attachment to most of these to make space for new things.

Read the whole post here.

The Firefly Folios ✦

Growing Pains

Weeks leading to my trip back to the Philippines after more than 2 years of being away, I felt that undercurrent of nervous energy colouring my days in anticipation of it. Not excitement, not the giddiness of finally going home. Nerves. I remember one night, lying beside C, waiting for sleep when I whispered …

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a year ago · 6 likes · 4 comments · Riza

Where is home?

Riza said something about what folks back home expect from you when they hear you’ve “made it” outside of the Philippines. It’s an experience that we Filipinos continue to, ehrm, fetishize. I’ve been asked that many times. “Mag-a-abroad ka ba? Matalino ka namang bata.” (“Will you be working abroad? You’re a smart kid anyway.”) They make it sound like it’s such an easy thing. And then, when I do make it, it’ll be down to me to shower the “blessings” on everyone else.

I’ve had that in mind when I first came across ’s Substack, which is about, well, moving abroad. In her case, she’s done it many times, moving from the United States to Australia, and then to New Zealand. And yes, she is Filipina, too.

Anyway, she states the obvious: it’s not exciting. Not always, at least.

The truth is, 99% of my experience is ordinary. I work a full-time 9-to-5 job. My kitchen gets messy when I cook. I procrastinate on putting dishes in the dishwasher. I have to file taxes every year. The only difference? I’m navigating all of life’s ups and downs while living in a different country—and that comes with its own set of sacrifices.

I suppose I won’t fully understand that. I’ll just see it from the outside and think, “wow, they’ve made it.” I remember thinking that way when a college friend ended up working in Taipei—for a newspaper, even, which was a dream of mine! But in the two times I visited her there, she admitted it comes with the same difficulties, only magnified. But then, showing that part isn’t chic.

Read the whole post here.

Another Broad Abroad

007: The Sacrifices I Make to Live Abroad

When I started writing this newsletter, I made a promise—to myself and to you, my lovely readers—that I’d always keep it real. I’m not here to blindly sell you the “move abroad” dream the way a lot of creators do on Instagram and TikTok. What I will do is equip you with the truth about what life abroad is…

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a year ago · 13 likes · 17 comments · Juviand Rivera

For one, I’ve always wondered about how much of the you that you were you hold on to when you move out. Again, I suppose it’s a Filipino thing, how we chide relatives who have had (relatively) comfortable lives in the United States, for example, for no longer knowing how to speak Filipino. (Or, on the flipside, we chide them for staying too Filipino, with the conservative viewpoints that come with it.)

It’s something that ponders upon in her piece. A former journalist for the government-run television network, she has since moved to Paris with her husband (via a stint in New Zealand) and writes (and vlogs!) about the experience.

The more I seek ways to stay connected to my Filipino heritage, the more I also feel out of touch with what it actually means to live back home.

I felt this most strongly today, when I realized I had forgotten about the anniversary of the People Power Revolution. Moments like this always make me feel a certain urgency—because they are reminders that we are on the cusp of historical revisionism, and that many people in power today remain selfish, corrupt, and incompetent. And so I wondered: How can immigrants like me—who are physically and politically detached—still make a difference? Even just a drop in the ocean?

This reminds me of something else entirely. I had an exchange with Juvi when I first came across her about how “expats” and “OFWs” have different connotations—one being more well-to-do than the other, and more often than not white and male—when they all refer to the same thing. And don’t get me started on how “immigrant” has become a dirty word these days, especially in the United States.

Read the whole post here.

Unfolding Maps

The Paradox of Being Filipino from Afar

Even when I was still living in the Philippines, I loved my identity. I felt it in my bones, and I never wanted to be anyone else. But now, eight years into living abroad, my connection to my Filipino identity feels even stronger—almost like a quiet, constant clamoring within me…

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a year ago · 16 likes · 5 comments · Kring Lacson-Dupré

I find it funny how that singer-songwriter seemingly answered Kring’s question. Based in Nashville, he has not been to the Philippines for over three decades, so following his travelogue was fun—to me, particularly, because he went to some of the same places I have been to. This is how he concluded his five-part series:

Now that I am back inside the bubble of the United States, I long for the people, flavors, sights, and sounds of the place my ancestors called home. I hope I can make it back to my motherland someday.

Until then and forever more, she has my allegiance.

She has my love.

Read the whole post here.

Where Pianos Roam

Part 5: The Philippines Travelogue

Greetings from Tennessee…

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a year ago · 1 like · Roqué Marcelo

Home is where the heart is

Let me wrap up this digest with two pieces on building a home… although in the case of ’s flash fiction piece, Cafe Animals, it’s really a cafe. And also a home for strays.

The orange-striped cat suddenly jumped on the counter and purred, prompting him to gently stroke its fur. “I like this one. I think I’ll call it Kiffy.”

“You know what that means in Tagalog, right?”

There was a look of pride on his face. “Precisely why I chose it.”

Read the whole post here.

KIFFESQUE

Cafe Animals

It was a quaint cafe in the corner of Iloilo City, positioned between an overpass and an intersection. The two cafe owners, a couple, took great pains to care for the place, and greater pains to care for its pets…

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a year ago · 6 likes · 1 comment · Kiff Joshua

Finally, a short essay from writer and podcaster , about what we can learn from putting together Ikea furniture. It may have been published in time for Valentine’s day, but love is love no matter what time of the year it is.

This silly project means a lot because it was our first little piece of furniture—an achievement in adulting! It’s also a project that Jor and I worked on together. As this season of love encourages us to be sentimental, I naturally see the metaphor in this: that building a life with someone isn’t as easy as we think.

I’ll admit, this hit me hard. I assembled, pretty much by myself, an Ikea desk for the ex-girlfriend when we still lived together.

Read the whole post here.

Ella Thinks Aloud

What Ikea Taught Us About Love

Three months ago, Jor and I did our first Ikea haul and bought a chest of drawers for our unit. We’ve been living together for a while and figured we need more storage space. It was a whole afternoon of looking through the Ikea app and choosing the perfect of chest of drawers for us (White? Brown? With handles? No handles? Three shelves? Four?). When we…

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a year ago · 2 likes · Ella Mae Masamayor

There are a lot of new additions to the Stack Natin directory in the past four weeks. Say hello to , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , and !

Whether you’re in what you always called home or are building a new one, you can take a break and read through all the interesting pieces from Filipino writers on Substack—start with the directory. And if you want to take part, you can join any time.

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I was getting excited about finally having a (relatively) topical installment of What We’ve Been Writing, but then, other things happened.

But then, it’s a great opportunity to remind everyone that there’s more to us Filipinos than having elected a person who dodged responsibility for him crimes, only to find himself in a plane to the Hague. (Yes, I know a good number of us approve of his murderous “war on drugs” and support him to this day, but again, despite Western media characterizing him as wildly popular, it doesn’t mean the whole country loves him. Not everyone thinks that way.) So, let’s stick with the original topic I had planned. Let’s talk about food!

Get on the list

Is this our moment?

The past few weeks saw certain corners of the Philippines abuzz, and especially particular corners of Filipino Substack. It was announced that the Michelin Guide is heading to our shores. I think that makes us the eighth Asian country, and the fourth Southeast Asian country, to have an edition of the respected restaurant guide. Inevitably this triggered that part of us that crave international affirmation, but it is looking like a pretty big moment for a country whose restaurant scene has been buzzing for a while—and, more importantly, whose cuisine has been making waves around the world for a while.

is a Filipino chef based in London and a contestant on the 18th series of The Great British Menu. His publication is worth a look as he tries to navigate his heritage and culture through food, but his piece on the wider implications of the Michelin Guide entering the Philippines is where we begin.

Michelin’s presence in the Philippines will shine a spotlight on our culinary landscape, but recognition alone does not define a cuisine. The more important question is who gets to shape the story of Filipino food? Will this moment highlight the full breadth of our cuisine from fine dining to the everyday soul of carinderias and turo-turo stalls or will it narrow the focus to a select few?

Filipino food has thrived through colonial history, migration, and reinvention, not because it sought external validation, but because it has always been deeply rooted in our communities. Now, as Michelin’s inspectors explore the country, we must ask: what version of Filipino cuisine will they see, and what stories will remain untold?

Read the whole post here.

Sawsawan (sah-sah-wan)

Filipino Food’s Global Moment: Michelin Has Entered the Chat.

By now, you’ve probably seen the headlines. The Michelin Guide has officially announced its expansion into the Philippines, with its inaugural edition set to cover Manila and Environs & Cebu. The press releases will frame it as a historic milestone, and the discussions will centre on which restaurants might receive stars or Bib Gourmands and what this r…

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a year ago · 8 likes · 4 comments · Budgie Montoya

He does raise a very good point. In Manila, restaurant-wise, names like Toyo Eatery, Metiz and Blackbird have become must-visits for people… of a certain cachet, let’s be honest. I myself can’t help but feel that the guide would further the divide between the “worthy” and everything else—and the latter happens to include what most of us eat.

I also think of the chefs who have already put in the work establishing Filipino cuisine, or at least their take on it, around the world. My childhood habit of watching cooking shows has translated to watching culinary videos on YouTube, where I come across Filipino chefs doing very different things. Sheldon Simeon, for example, mainly taps into his Hawaiian heritage, but also dives into his Ilocano roots. On the flipside, you have Alvin Cailan, who embraced his culinary heritage much later.

The beauty journalist recently interviewed Abi Balingit, whose mish-mash of myriad Filipino and American influences has led to a James Beard-winning cookbook. Yes, she’s the one who did the adobo chocolate chip cookies. Also, yes, the interview is about her distinctive style, but there’s also an interesting glimpse into her creative process and how she finds new nooks of her childhood and pulls them up to the surface:

“The overlap that I see of what is exciting in food and what's exciting in beauty–especially fragrance–is just thinking how does this translate for me? I'll blind-buy a lot of things. Even though you can't eat it, I think the allure is imagining, and hopefully, it matches your expectations. That’s the same kind of marketing, in a way, I did in my brain with my biggest recipe, Adobo Chocolate Chip Cookies. If these were just ‘Bay Leaf Brown Butter Cookies,’ no one would think anything of it. I think it’s the extra connection of oh, you’re layering information about savory food and a dessert.”

My thought was, should we demand these Filipino chefs to do Filipino food as we’ve known it, or should we change our expectations and embrace all these remixes? I recall something blogger Ivan Henares told British food critic Tom Parker-Bowles in his piece about Filipino cuisine for Esquire UK many years ago: “The problem is, we adapt easily to new places… and [we] don’t like paying to eat food we’d make better at home anyway.”

Read the whole post here.

Pearl

Pearl Profiles: Abi Balingit, the James Beard Award-Winning Baker

Welcome to Pearl, a newsletter dedicated to Filipinas and their beauty & wellness journeys. Read more about its mission here…

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a year ago · 10 likes · 3 comments · Kristina Rodulfo

Speaking of recipe remixes, , English-Filipino chef and one-half of the supper club The Adobros, wrote a good take on the viral—not necessarily in a complementary way, sadly—recipe that is ’s chocolate rice, something that isn’t quite outrageous if you’re Filipino.

Lieu would later say that people hoped that she would die, and she has talked about the sexism and racism she often faces as a female Asian content creator. And for what? A chocolate rice dish, that draws very loosely upon champorado (Lieu has a Filipino husband) and more generally upon the many sweet rice puddings and porridges that exist around the world? People be crazy mean.

He also taps into an interesting challenge Filipino cuisine faces: how do you establish yourself in light of ragebait culture and short attention spans? It’s safe to bet that many only know us for balut, the subject of several Fear Factor challenges—remember that show? Don’t ask me about the host, though.

Read the whole post here.

For the Love of Adobo

A storm in a rice bowl

If you are a chronically online foodie, you may have recently seen a kerfuffle about chocolate rice…

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a year ago · 7 likes · 1 comment · Mark Corbyn

We’re all waving flags now

One thing I found fascinating when the Stack Natin project first came together was how many Filipino writers were on this platform to talk about food. Just goes to show how food is the easiest entry point to understanding a whole people—and considering the Philippines has over 7,000 islands and many ethnic and linguistic groups, there’s a lot to go through.

One of them is chef Tintin Jonsson, aka , who explores her Swedish and Filipino roots in several pop-ups across London. She recently visited Zamboanga, long a hot spot of interregional migration, and now home to Muslims and Christians and indigenous groups living together side by side, and all speaking a Spanish creole, Chavacano. Unfortunately for this Manila-born guy still working through his “imperial” mindset, all I likely know about this region is the long history of conflict, and the many canneries. But I’m growing curious about Tausug cuisine lately, and Tintin adds fuel to the fire.

A lot of the dishes that I love belong to the Tausug culture. In the foreword to The Tausug cookbook by Abdulaziz Hasan Hamsain, Dr Benj. S describes the Tausug cuisine to have an ancient austronesian legacy with adopted features from the indians, malays and other asians, engendering the spicy and peppery typicality.

Read the whole post here.

Swilipino’s Substack

Zamboanga

BORROWING MEMORIES…

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a year ago · 11 likes · 4 comments · Swilipino

Another one is , of Filipino and Welsh descent, although he’s now based in Lisbon. He wrote about his experiences launching a supper club when he was still in the UK, although now it seems he’s launching it in his new home city.

I was a graphic designer working in advertising. I had no ambition to be a chef, no dream of opening a restaurant. Even getting the word out was difficult — I had no money for ads, barely any Instagram followers, nor was I part of any hot East London chef clique. In summary, my cooking skills were subpar, and I had zero clout.

Still, the good word about Filipino food needed to be spread and I had one advantage: I knew the classics. Family dishes and recipes passed down to me from as early as I can remember; Mum’s favourite Binagoongan, Lola’s early morning Pandesal, Adobo after school, Sinigang on a rainy day, Inihaw beachside, Lugaw when I was sick and Pancit on my birthday.

Armed with this inherited knowledge, I swept aside the imposter syndrome. How difficult could it be?

Read the whole post here.

Of course, I have to mention Anna, aka , one of the first to join this project. Based in Sydney, she waves the flag for Filipino cuisine through pop-ups and a cookbook project.

In the past couple of weeks she’s been writing about meat-less recipes for Lent—and also providing a window into our tradition (one I honestly don’t practice myself) of giving something up for those forty days between Ash Wednesday and Black Saturday.

A ritual we practice at home since the girls were still young. I remember a time when one of them reminded me not to pack chips in their lunchbox, “I’m sacrificing chips for Lent, mum!” When they were primary to high school age, we would discuss what our Lenten sacrifice is over a meal. There were the tangible chocolates, lollies, chips, at one point hubby even gave up drinking soft drinks for 40 days. A feat for him, although these days he’s more into keffir and green juice. There was a year I completely gave up on meat for the duration of lent, and was craving lechon by the time Easter arrived.

There’s also a recipe for tortang talong, or, roughly, an eggplant omelette. With or without meat, it’s really good, especially if you have a gas stove and can really grill your aubergines.

Read the whole post here.

Adobo Down Under

Fork that eggplant...

Yes, you’ll need to poke the eggplant with a fork to make the recipe for this Tortang Talong…

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a year ago · 5 likes · 11 comments · Adobo Down Under

And finally, an attempt to define

We end this month’s digest with a piece from photographer and cook , born in the Philippines but also based in Australia. Her attempt to articulate what defines Filipino food—which, ironically, is perhaps what makes it a difficult sell to those outside of the country and the diaspora for the most part—feels pretty revelatory, even if I also knew what she was talking about.

Every time someone asks, "What is Filipino food?" why do we always start dancing between— "Oh, it’s Spanish-influenced… also Chinese… maybe a little American…"

Like a bit of this and a bit of that. But when you really look at it, it is nothing like Spanish food.

Yes, there are influences. But we make it our own.

Our great doyennes of Filipino food—Doreen Fernandez, Felice Sta. Maria, Amy Besa, and many more—have proven this through their research and writing. This narrative served a purpose. It was how we explained our food to make it relatable, to gain global recognition.

But here’s the thing—we have always danced between wanting recognition and rejecting it.

Perfect example?

Gordon Ramsay calls Filipino food a "sleeping giant" and Filipinos go HELLS NO, MR. RAMSAY. WE AIN’T SLEEPING!

So, to go back full circle to the Michelin news, what is our desired end result? It will directly recognize chefs and restaurateurs, perhaps those running places we can’t even get to. (I mean, I’d love to eat at Toyo Eatery, never mind the months-long queue, but I don’t have anyone to eat with.) Some would say the trickle-down effect would be on our cuisine as a whole, which is great. But there is the risk of focusing too much on the innovators, on the boundary-pushers, without recognizing the starting points. Perhaps, in the end, that task falls to us, to help build that narrative as those who get stars build theirs.

Read the whole post here.

And since Luisa mentioned it, I really wish Doreen Fernandez’s estate is on Substack. They are posting her columns on Facebook, which does reach a wider Filipino audience, but you know…

Before we wrap, a welcome to the newest additions to the directory: , , , , , and !

If you want to be part of the Stack Natin directory, you can join the list—and you can go through the whole thing if you’re itching for a new read. Preferably with some halo-halo—think bingsu, but with much more toppings—on the side.

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In the three months that Stack Natin has been live, I’ve had to put on several hats. I’ve had to be a detective, figuring out if the writer I’m reading is Filipino. (My “Pinoy senses” tingle a lot, and the algorithm has been surprisingly helpful.) I’ve had to be a salesman, encouraging the writers I do find to sign up for the directory. Of course, I also have to be the guy that does these digests, and it still turns up the impostor syndrome sometimes.

Shepherding this project bringing together many Filipino writers across the world inevitably would lead us to talking about identities—both the kind that we are born into, and the kind that we assume as we go about our lives. It is ripe pickings for a writer keen to make a mark; it’s something we feel innately, and it’s perhaps the most personal expression of who we really are. In a world where we are antagonized because some assume the worst of us, sometimes, this really is our only weapon. It doesn’t make the task easier, but it does give them the opportunity to get to know us better… and us, them.

Get on the list

Be who you dress as

I could’ve mentioned ’s impassioned, almost scholarly piece on “core-ification” quite early on. This came out in November—just in time for the first digest—and was one of those posts that became quite popular on certain corners of Substack. But to be honest, I didn’t have the time nor the energy to actually tackle it head on at the time, and I felt it was a piece that needed all my attention. So I gave myself some motivation: this month’s digest totally takes off from this piece. I have to read it by then.

There is quite a lot to unpack here, from how we pursue a certain look to belong, to how it reduces communities and subcultures to a key visual. But this, I feel, is the key line:

Companies, algorithms, and ultimately, social media, is selling us an image of appearance and it does not introduce us to what goes beyond, which are the shared values, community, and advocacies of the core’s essence. Since we were only sold an image, then our clothes are not our clothing at all, these are costumes. We are only performing the kind of person we wish to appear to be and not living the person and its depth that we should wish to become.

Andrea mentioning the “art hoe” look particularly brought me back to the time when I was an adjacent to the digital art community, and seeing people with the same look passing by the table I was looking after. Some of them would have those Kanken bags. I suppose now those bags would have Labubu dolls on them, covered in plastic so as not to get damaged, never mind that those covers look ridiculous.

Read the whole post here.

mayumi writes.

the core-ification of everything ruins identity formation

It was once all fun and games to watch a video on TikTok and relate to whatever artistry that was presented in it, until you tap to view the comments section and see an overwhelming number of social media users asking, “What aesthetic is this?” or the most utilized question of them all, …

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a year ago · 161 likes · 22 comments · andrea claire

Are you one of us?

’s piece on the “great wall” that hinders romantic relationships between “full” Filipinos and Chinese-Filipinos triggered many memories for me. Sorry, I’ll talk about the ex again: her dad is Taiwanese and her mom is Filipino, and she always told me that her dad wouldn’t have liked me because I wasn’t Chinese. I suppose I dodged a bullet, because he had passed long before we met, so no conversations like this one:

“Are you allowed to date Filipinos?”

I’d heard enough horror stories about Tsinoy and non-Chinese relationships to know this was a gamble. He said he believed he was the first in his family to date outside their race, but he was optimistic.

“Once my parents see how happy I am, they’ll come around.”

I wanted to believe that, too.

I suppose this also depends on how traditional the families of both parties are. I have many Tsinoy friends who are now happily married to “full” Pinoys, but I also know of others who ended up marrying within the community. Maybe there’s a correlation between that and how rich and prominent the family is? I find it’s tricky, as we’ll end up wading into racist connotations and impressions on both sides—you can only imagine the nasty Chinese stereotypes one often hears here, especially in light of the Chinese government’s territorial claims on the Philippines—as well as our tendency to put family above all else.

Read the whole post here.

stories come in waves

In Dating, The “Chinese Great Wall” is Years of Enabled Racism And We're Not Talking About It Enough

When the love of your life is forced to choose between you and a life of comfort—one that includes his family, inheritance, and everything he’s ever known—the choice becomes painfully clear. No one willingly sacrifices security, no matter how much they claim to love you…

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a year ago · 4 likes · 2 comments · Rona Alondra

On the flipside, we do love our east Asian pop culture. The death of Taiwanese actress Barbie Hsu on 2 February has triggered a massive wave of nostalgia from Filipinos of a certain generation, the ones who grew up watching Meteor Garden every afternoon and falling in love not just with the boys of F4, but also with Barbie.

In her piece, rightly points out that without that show’s success, we wouldn’t be as accepting towards Korean drama and pop as we are now. (If not for Barbie’s popularity, for instance, Sandara Park wouldn’t have been voted the runner-up of Star Circle Quest, and she wouldn’t be the K-pop icon that she is now.) But I’m sharing it here more because of this little window she provides into a specific example of how that show became a gathering point for many Filipinos.

There was a Pretty Intelligent Feisty Chinita Girl in our block who got the attention of a guy barkada of mine, and overconfident as he is, he was branding himself as Dao Ming Zhu, together with the long hair, the choker and the Grey Muscle Shirt, to our block’s Shan Cai.

I don’t know who came up with the teasing but all our response was, “Dao Ming Zhu?? Baka Dao Ming Zhu-gat?!” And I came up with him being Banas Wu, instead of Vaness Wu, one of the members of F4 - the main cast of Meteor Garden.

Read the whole post here.

Culture Connoisseur sa Kanto

RIP Shan Cai and The Cultural Phenomenon that was Meteor Garden

Aside from the fact that I’m just 10 years apart from Barbie Tsu when she died yesterday, its just disarming when someone you grew up watching on TV suddenly dies. Reminds you of your mortality and how sudden things can be. Weekday Primetime TV back in 2003 was never the same when…

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a year ago · 5 likes · Bom

Be one of us, or else

All this talk of personas come at a pretty scary time, admittedly. Around the globe there’s been a lot of anti-minority rhetoric, whether it be on the basis of race, gender or politics. As I was putting this digest together a couple of pieces stood out to me for how they captured the prevalent anxiety and uncertainty—and the attempt to retain their humanity amidst all this.

wrote about LGBTQ+ culture for the Philippine Daily Inquirer, one of the country’s biggest newspapers, before moving to France a few years back. His piece on being the subject of racial abuse while going home from a night out expands into why we bully, harm and abuse “others”, and how we sometimes distort our memories and recollections to justify that we didn’t really do anything wrong.

I remember bullies from school who picked on others not because they had something intrinsically against their victims, but because they wanted to align themselves with the bullies. To be powerful, you must perform power. Aggression was a performance of it.

At dinner a few years ago with some high school classmates, I asked one of them if they remembered bullying me. “Did that happen?” they asked. They had forgotten about it because, from their perspective, it wasn’t violence. It was just what everyone did to everyone else—or rather, what their group did to everyone else. It was what normal looked like to them, and normal was unremarkable.

As a person who was bullied in high school—the specific taunts were, appallingly, “autistic”—I found myself thinking about a lot of things.

Read the whole post here.

A Writer from Manila

Thoughts After A Hate Crime

I was assaulted last night. After watching Babygirl at Pathé Comédie with my friends Maeve and Olga, we walked to the tram station at Corum. Olga would usually take the train from the station at Comédie, but yesterday evening, she decided to walk to the next stop ins…

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a year ago · 6 likes · 12 comments · Evan Ⓥ (he/him)

On the other hand, there’s this piece from —disclaimer: she was one of my Philippine literature professors!—written in light of Donald Trump’s attempts to end “birthright citizenship”. She was born in Chicago to Filipino parents, and moved back to the Philippines when she was four years old. There was a lot of novelty, and a lot of awkward situations.

But to this day, I wonder what kind of ten year old is made to ask me this question with a contempt that can only be learned from maybe certain kinds of adults:

You’re not a Filipino citizen? Why? Where’s your passport?

“Bitch, we’re ten,” is what I would have said. Except I didn’t know what a passport was, nor did I understand what she was getting at. She’s not the one giving assignments.

Read the whole post here.

Pamela’s Substack

10 year olds don't ask to see the passports of other 10 year olds

I rarely write about my childhood because how does a golden child write about themselves? I am a golden child. My parents were lucky to have gone to America, start a family, and raise us on combined pension and US military income in Manila. That’s enough to attract curiosity and/or contempt…

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a year ago · 1 like · Pamela Jean

And finally, seven thank yous

I wrap up this month’s digest with a piece from . It’s a pretty straightforward one, but I felt it perfectly sums up all this talk about who we want to be, who others want (or assume) us to be—and who we end up becoming, at least at this moment. In her case, it’s performer, politician, journalist, and lawyer… almost.

While waiting for admissions to open, I dusted off my father's old law books and lined them up on the new table and shelves I had custom-made. I binged on Suits and How To Get Away With Murder. (Educational? Sort of. Scandalous? You bet!)

Let's not get into the disappointment my family showed when I didn't apply to law school after all. Noble as the profession may be, in my most truthful conversations with myself, I knew I didn't want it. My grandparents wanted it. My parents, uncles, and aunties did. I didn't.

Read the whole post here.

The Scenic Route

To all the lives I've lived before

I had a midlife crisis at 30…

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a year ago · 3 likes · 1 comment · Rikki

May we all be happy with who we are at this moment. Frankly, I should tell that to myself.

Before we end, a welcome to the newest additions to the directory: , , , , , , , , , and ! You can still submit your publication to the directory—if you’re of Filipino descent and writing here, join the list. And if you’re a bit restless, our directory might just have your next favorite read.

Subscribe now

The first result when you search for “time is a construct” is an essay from a Singaporean physics tutor, Phang Yu Hon. “While time does exist, at least from our understanding, it is a social construct that humans have created to navigate and better manage our lives,” he wrote. “We create such a social construct to help us measure our events’ duration, from seconds to years. Without time, while modern physics may work out fine, our modern life may be messy.”

I start here because we just started a new year, which means a lot of introspection on our part—what did we get right, what did we get wrong, what can we improve on—and then proceed to post them publicly. Of course, we can do it at any point in time, but we choose to do it at this point in time—the one we arbitrarily designated as January 1—because, to us, it just screams “new beginnings”. Between that and the rest most of us tend to get in the lull that is (also arbitrarily designated as) the last week of the year, we tend to reflect, and we tend to connect the dots.

This month’s digest is not, however, a collection of essays written to mark the new year. Apart from the whole “arbitrary” business that was the preceding paragraph, I honestly don’t think there is such a thing as a “fresh start”. The new beginning we so often herald does not make a clean slate out of us. We carry into this point in time what we know, what we cherish, what we value, what hurts us, what makes us go.

Indeed, if anything, 2025 feels like a repeat of one version of the “worst possible timeline”, with two wars, the unrelenting idea of a third, and people assuming power that could make things much worse—among many other things. So what do we do?

We love. Or at least, we try to.

Get on the list

The ones we let in

Let’s begin with a piece from that, to be honest, took me out the first time, and still takes me out now that I’m writing about it. I mean, the imagery is so visceral, and the associations I have with them are so painful that I wasn’t sure if I wanted to include it in this month’s digest for fear of putting too much of myself and my context out there.

Lying there, I feel a strong urge to admit that I’m wrong and you’re right. Of course, you’re right! This is how love is made. In the way I stay still, even though, from this angle, it’d be so easy for you to kill me. Don’t they say that the stomach is the most vulnerable part of the body? That’s why, when dogs show adoration, they offer you their bellies.

Well, here, have the weakest part of me. Do with it what you will. I promise, I’ll try not to run, not to downplay or dismiss the feeling, even if I have to do it through gritted teeth. If what it takes for you to know me is to hand you the power to hurt me, then have at it. It’s yours. It’s yours. It’s yours.

Her piece reminded me of the slow-motion break-up I had to go through, of realizing she was already engaged less than half a year after she finally left, of adding two and two together and realizing I was being cheated on. I was reminded of how I was asked to bottle up my emotions so as not to be disruptive; then to be more upfront with them so I can connect with people; and back, and forth, and back. This piece on choosing to be vulnerable to someone made me weep—makes me weep—for what I have lost, if I ever really had it in the first place, and what I feel I can never have again.

Read the whole post here.

mellow musings

There! is! no! connection! without! vulnerability!

Hovering over my body in bed, our clothes scattered on the floor, you place your forehead upon my stomach ever so gently with your eyes closed. I wait for your mouth to offer kisses, but it doesn’t…

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a year ago · 3 likes · nam

The grief we carry

New York-based , already in her early 70s, is “in a hurry to write about her memories growing up in the Philippines, and growing up in general,” according to her Substack profile. She has two publications, one of which focuses on flash fiction, but I’m highlighting the one she submitted to the directory—and the one with another piece that took me out when I read it.

Here, she poignantly writes about suddenly losing her son, particularly about the rapid-fire thought process she went through as she processed the news the first time around.

i don’t remember crying then. i called the morgue repeatedly, asking to talk to the medical examiner. i asked for an estimate of when you stopped breathing. i wanted an explanation for how this could have happened so close to your father’s birthday, when we had just spoken and you asked me how i was holding up now he’s no longer around.

That said, my favorite passages were a few paragraphs down:

if it hurts, would you still want to keep memories of it? what kind of love would make you want to remember?

I’ve just turned 36, and have (thankfully) not yet had to confront the grief of losing a parent, or a sibling. The closest I probably have is, well, the aforementioned. The problem with living alone is that you end up having to deal with your thoughts more than you want to. One night I remember making the mental arithmetic: my parents are not getting younger; I am finding it harder to make new friends, much more find someone who will choose me the way I choose her; my cat wouldn’t be around forever, either. I am an overthinker, sure, but is this anticipatory grief? And if so, what do I do?

I wish I could be like MP, finding the dignity to embrace the grief while continuing to look forward to what life has to offer her. Maybe it comes with age? I’m not sure myself.

Read the whole post here.

Looking Inward: No More FOMO

the anguish of falling rain

it’s raining here now…

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a year ago · 11 likes · 3 comments · MP Diaz

The selves we embrace (or leave behind)

Just a few days ago I was talking to someone about how we read a lot about “girlhood”, but not about “boyhood”. Turns out that what I was looking for is in the directory.

is studying in Melbourne, but also spent their childhood years in the Philippines. On Christmas day they wrote a pretty sprawling essay exploring their queer identity, and grappling with the people they met along the way, and how they turn out to be vis-a-vis the author’s coming into their own.

My inner circle is different now because people change. Jenny doesn’t talk to me anymore due to my selfishness and mistakes. I’ve made new friends at university. I’ve learned to love and lean into my feminine qualities. I still prefer the companionship of women, but more recently, queer women of colour. There’s a better understanding with someone who somewhat knows my experiences to some degree. I love girlhood and boyhood. They’re sacred and beautiful and I hold them close to my very heart, but they’re also far in the past. I hate that they no longer serve me. I feel soul-crushing grief.

What first caught my attention, though, was their dig into the so-called “male loneliness epidemic”. Hello again, me. See, it’s impossible to be fully objective.

Everyone and their fathers are lamenting about the ‘male loneliness epidemic’. Who’s surprised, that in a patriarchal, cisheteronormative world that centres around men upholding toughness, they would be alienated from each other? I hesitate to say that men are in a ‘crisis’, but more so, the problem lies within men’s relationships with maleness and gender as a whole.

But it’s clear to me why it resonated. Many years ago I resisted therapy because I thought all I needed was someone to talk to. Now, though, I’m doing therapy—and I can understand why not everyone is equipped, or willing, to help carry your load. But at the same time, I also feel that my options are limited, because as one of those straight (not-white) men, I’m expected to bottle things up, keep a stoic face, and move along. How many times have I been told that there’s “plenty of fish in the sea”, never mind that I was no longer mourning the end of an almost-decade-long relationship?

But you know us men, we should not really think about our feelings… but maybe I’ll write about it another time.

Read the whole post here.

perfectly unperfect

Boyhood, girlhood and the Other.

Before reading: It’ll probably be Christmas Day when I publish this (or Eve for those who live in the Northern hemisphere). This piece is melancholic which sums up what I feel during this strange period of this year. Anyways. Here it is…

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a year ago · J.E "Mahal" Cuya

The hope that we want to genuinely have

Can I let you in on a secret? This post by was supposed to be the very first in this digest, if only because his piece was a response to Donald Trump regaining the presidency of the United States.

But as this digest came together, it became clear that this piece is about more than that. If we are to love, we also have to hope—to hope that by choosing to love, there is a better future we can all aim towards.

So, still — I choose hope.

I have hope because Palestinian, after Palestinian, has told me they still have hope. If my Palestinian siblings, who are staring down genocide and ethnic cleansing, can have hope, how dare I not?

So, still — I choose hope.

I have hope because I am the hope manifested by my ancestors, my Filipino and Chinese ancestors here and in my homelands, who endured struggle, pain, and oppression at the hands of multiple generations of institutions and governments.

But it’s difficult, isn’t it? It’s difficult to find hope when all you can see is despair. It’s difficult to find hope when all you can see is surrender. It’s difficult to find hope for yourself when all you can see if people giving up on you. So perhaps none of this is linear. We love by hoping, and we hope by loving. We hope by baring ourselves. We love by acknowledging who we are and who we were. But perhaps, above all, just don’t be assholes.

Read the whole post here.

The Amalgamation

I Choose Hope, Still and Again

Yes, it’s bad…

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a year ago · 28 likes · 5 comments · Bruce Reyes-Chow

And finally, a recipe

My final pick for this month is an off-directory one, from , a student and journalist based in Houston but raised in the Philippines. Her published work focuses on Asian representation, both in societal frameworks but also in culture—I mean, if you’re based in the cultural crossroads that is Austin, why not? (I wonder if she’s watched the few Filipino acts who were on SXSW at some point.)

I know this digest has been pretty heavy, so I’ll end with one idea of love: cooking for them. Filipinos, of course, know what lumpia is. Some translate it as “spring roll”, but it doesn’t quite capture it. Sure, it has definite connections with the Chinese, but it’s really something we’ve made our own. (I myself have made “lumpia balls”—imagine the filling without the wrapper, cooked like meatballs.)

Angela shares her grandmother’s recipe for lumpia, but also talks to her mother about the memories she associates with the dish—and so much more besides.

My mom, now 55, moved to Houston in August and embodies lola’s warmth through the numerous Filipino dishes she cooks, which are meant to be shared. Rather than asking me how I am, she says, “Kumain ka na ba?” or “Have you eaten yet?”

On a late night in October, I messaged my mom to see if she had written lola’s lumpia recipe anywhere.

“Yes,” she replied. “It’s in my brain.”

Read the whole post here.

gunita

day 1965

While born in Manila, my mother Angely Lim spent her childhood traveling the world. She and her six siblings followed their parents, foreign service officers from the Philippines, wherever they were assigned to work. For Angely, one constant amid the changing chaos was watching her own mother Rosario Diano, who I call Lola Charing, prepare lumpia in a b…

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a year ago · 3 likes · 1 comment · Angela Lim

Before I wrap up, a welcome to those who signed up for the Stack Natin directory in the last month or so: , , , and ! If you’re of Filipino descent who’s writing on Substack, you can join the list. (We’re also open for our first round of submissions, too, by the way!) And if you’re looking for your next favorite read, why not browse the directory?

Subscribe now

Now comes perhaps the most nerve-wracking part of Stack Natin: the monthly curated digests of what we have been writing.

You see, while I write—and I have written a lot, on Substack and much more outside of it over the past couple of decades—I never really considered myself a writer. I’m not the guy you can trust to eloquently elucidate a novel idea or a unique way of looking at things. How dare I think I can pass judgment, that I am the arbiter of taste? Or maybe that’s the impostor syndrome speaking, especially in a platform where there are a lot of really good writers.

But then, I had to remind myself what Stack Natin is for: to spotlight Filipino stories. While I have my idea of what good writing is, the priority of these What We’ve Been Writing digests—at least for now—is to tell you more about our stories, told through diverse perspectives and approaches. These posts will act as a starting point not just to Filipino writers and creatives on this platform (primarily those who are on the directory—so there’s a reason for you to join the list!) but also to stories from another side of your world that you probably don’t get to pay attention to.

And what better way to start than by building our setting?

In the months leading up to Stack Natin going live I’ve been fascinated by the places I ended up “going to” thanks to the writing of fellow Filipino writers on Substack. While I grew up in the province of Cavite, I was pretty much raised on the fringes of the capital, Manila—well, technically, the National Capital Region, which includes Manila and sixteen other cities and towns—and was exposed to the zeitgeist around it. We are a country of over 7,000 islands. There’s a lot of other takes there. And then there are those Filipinos who live in different countries, and were raised from different times. That’s a lot of stories to try to make sense of.

So, this first digest is an attempt to establish the setting, well knowing that this will be an ongoing process. At least we have some common ground.

If you’re interested in curating a future edition of What We’ve Been Writing, do drop me a line at stacknatin@gmail.com. And if you want to be part of future digests, the best way to do so is to get on the list!

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What little we know about our forests

I’d like to start with a piece from illustrator about a person whose wide contributions to Filipino society has unfortunately been minimized into a single statistic.

Leonard Co is one of the Philippines’ foremost botanists. He devoted his life not just to documenting the country’s many plant species—some of which are endemic to our islands—but also to advocating for their protection.

Leonard Co collected more than 6,000 specimens under his name, in addition to the specimens filed in the various consultancy projects he was involved in. He had 11,000 plant photographs, and undertook the huge task of updating the most comprehensive list of Philippine plants ever made. “An Enumeration of Philippine Flowering Plants” was a 4 volume book compiled over 20 years. It was the most ambitious work of American botanist Elmer Merrill who completed the work during the American colonial period in the Philippines.

Since it was long outdated, Leonard Co began annotating or making notes on the species listed. Eventually he had an updated checklist organized in Microsoft Word files, whose information would be used to help conservation initiatives throughout the years despite being unpublished.

It was while doing this work where he and two colleagues were killed under still unclear circumstances. The military claims they were caught in a crossfire between members of the Philippine Army and proponents of the New People’s Army, Communist fighters who have been part in the longest ongoing conflict in the country. But those who survived say there was no gunfight.

We Filipinos have always paid lip service to the diverse flora and fauna in the country—“magandang tanawin” (beautiful sights) is an often used term in civics classes here—but both geographical and geopolitical reasons mean we don’t really know much about the nature that surrounds us. (Also worth watching, off-directory: a television documentary from journalist Howie Severino about the tipolo tree.)

Read the whole piece here.

What we know are concrete jungles

Most of ’s posts have an interesting format: an academic paper. (Perhaps a reflection of the fact that she’s currently studying medicine.) That leads to an diverse approach to well-explored topics—in this case, shopping malls in the Philippines, and why we love it so much.

In the country, malls have become the de facto third space, in lieu of the places some have fantasized about and romanticized—parks, libraries, museums. In fact, some of the fancier malls here house those three. (Well, except for libraries, perhaps. Nobody dares to do something like the Starfield Library here.) From just being a place to shop, it has evolved into a place where people gather, make memories, spend money… oh, and hang out, too. Escape the increasingly sweltering heat of this equatorial “paradise”.

Look, I’m not even going to try to hide my bias. I love malls, and I have good memories with most of them. Growing up, I often stayed with my mother at the mall while she worked, and I’d spend most of the day walking around with no purpose or intention just to kill boredom. I had no money and no reason to buy anything, but I was already entertained by the small things you could observe around a mall. In high school, I’d usually end up walking around malls by myself while waiting for my aunt to finish work, getting lost on random wings, and trying to find my way back. In college, I’d travel to specific malls with friends because there were bazaars or events we wanted to attend. Now, in medical school, I still go to malls, sometimes alone, just to destress. Most of the time, I still have no reason to buy anything. I just wanted a change of environment and a place to walk that wasn’t hot and outdoors.

It’s funny how I returned to this piece after coming from a meeting with mall developers for the day job, where I found out how they have been coping with the lost opportunities of the pandemic and the rise of e-commerce in the country. The quick answer: more restaurants, less stores—and what remains transition to an experiential model. So, even more of a third space, then.

Read the whole piece here.

In Partial Fulfillment

In Defense of the Filipino Mall

Thank you so much for supporting my work! I appreciate every read, like, and comment. I’d love for you to stick around <3…

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a year ago · 11 likes · 5 comments · with love, liv

What we want to reclaim

There’s a fascinating (and short) piece from about the Filipino tradition of “kamayan”, or eating with your hands. (“Kamay” is Filipino for “hand”.) Specifically, it’s about her not being into it, and yearning to relearn the traditions she left behind when she migrated to the United States.

So for me, kamayan is out of the question when it comes to Filipino food. You use one hand to scoop up some rice and meat and bring it to your mouth. I can’t do it. For me, it’d be like eating pasta with my hands. I can easily pop a handful of popcorn into my mouth but can’t pick up a messy handful of food. This is a tradition that sadly, is lost on me, which brings on feelings of not being Filipino enough.

If it helps, Barb, I don’t really like eating with my hands when it’s stews like sinigang or bulalo for lunch. I can do it, but it feels wrong. I’d say I was raised more on eating with my hands when there’s a bevy of grilled meats on the table, with ensaladang talong—a simple salad made of roasted eggplants, onions, tomatoes and fish sauce—on the side. Mmm.

Read the whole piece here.

Comedy, Tragedy

Kamayan or, Eating With Your Hands

Kamayan, the Filipino practice of eating with your hands, is “a tradition that dates back before colonization,” according to Camille’s Substack. Growing up, my family ate with forks and spoons as Filipinos do, but once in a while, my mom would eat certain dishes with her hands. She said the food tasted better that …

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a year ago · 13 likes · 9 comments · Barb Natividad

Barb refers to a piece from Singapore-based filmmaker about kamayan, which brings me to… Christmas! To me, at least, this is when an uncle breaks out the charcoal and makes the aforementioned grilled meats. But of course, there’s far more to Filipino Christmases than that, and I don’t have the space to go in-depth at the moment, considering we supposedly have the longest holiday season in the world.

So, as a taster, here’s another post from Camille—an initial glossary of Christmas-related terms in our national language. Also, yes, I am going off-directory this early.

Read the whole piece here.

Camille’s Substack

Celebrate a Filipino Christmas: Words to Share with Your Kids

Kamusta, mga Kaibigan! 🎄🎁✨…

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a year ago · 3 likes · Camille

And finally, some poetry

I’ll end this digest with poetry in one of the country’s many languages. Ilocano is mostly spoken in the north of the country, from the eponymous Ilocos region, through to the Cordillera mountains and the Cagayan valley. This is where was raised, and it forms the backbone of her Recovering Ilocano project.

In this post, she talks about translating poetry that her father wrote in Ilocano. But even then, she found some difficulty:

Papa wrote in nauneg nga Ilocano, a literary language more appropriate for publications like Bannawag, and not used in casual conversation.

I grew up in Baguio City, where we spoke a dialect mixed with indigenous expressions such as “Anya ngay?” (How are you?). In the summers when we visited Ilocos, our speech amused our relatives. They called it “Ilocano nga Igorot.”

In Ilocos, nauneg nga Ilocano gave justice to the emotions and poetry in stage dramas called Zarzuelas. Papa was well-versed in its delivery during those plays. He often played the lead actor, because he could sing, dance, and play the violin. Auntie Mining or another cousin would perform the lead female role.

By the way, Bannawag is a literary magazine, which provided Ilocano authors a space for their works, alongside entertainment features and lifestyle columns. And I think some comics, too. My late paternal grandfather also came from Ilocos and, during one visit to his hometown, I remember flicking through that magazine and not really understanding anything, having spent all my life in Manila. I just knew that it’s a sister publication to Liwayway—still being published, albeit monthly instead of weekly—as well as other equivalents based in the Visayas published in their local languages.

So, yes, we do have a lot of languages. Keep that in mind as Rachielle explains her process—and the whole series is an interesting read, too. I’ll probably refer back to it as we go along.

Read the whole post here.

Rachielle Sheffler (Baguio Girl)

R is for Ragsak (Happiness)

In our family, I had become the designated keeper of memories. So it was no surprise when I received a letter from my sister enclosing a poem my father had written long ago. By the clipping’s appearance, I estimated it to be written in the mid-1960s. Mama had put it in a magnetic album, the sticky type that makes scrapbookers faint with its acid content…

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a year ago · 9 likes · 4 comments · Rachielle Sheffler

Well, there goes the first digest. I hope there was something for you to start your journey of understanding the many Filipino stories on offer. I’ll get the hang of this soon enough—there’ll be a new installment next month! To get that on your list, subscribe now. And of course, you can browse the directory, and even join the list.

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