What I Am Not
Reflecting on what my research is really about
In order to figure out what I am, I can try to figure out what I am not. It’s humbling to see how many people around the world have applied my work in their journey towards reconnecting with ancestral memory. I absolutely believe that it’s important to honor our roots if we want to get to where we’re going. As the old Filipino proverb says, “Those who don’t look back at where they came from will never reach their destination.” That said, I’ve noticed certain expectations that go beyond what I do. This is a journey for everyone—similarly, I am also on a path. But I will not claim that this is the path. As the Lebanese poet Kahlil Gibran said, “Say not, ‘I have found the path of the soul.’ Say rather, ‘I have met the soul walking upon my path.’”
Here I will clarify what I am not, and in doing so I hope I can give you an image of what I actually am and my research is actually about.
Pre-colonial Anthropologist
This may disappoint some people, but my research is not actually centered around pre-colonial society. As a postcolonial descendant I am very aware of how colonial mentality has infected us with a sense of cultural inferiority as well as, to borrow a term from the Australian writer A.A. Phillips, a cultural cringe. The romance of pre-colonial society (which was not even “Filipino”) is apparent in our desire to emulate our ancestors’ aesthetics. We see this in the artistic use of baybayin, our fascination of revisiting local mythology, and our turn towards traditional animist practices (as a form of liberation from the constant, hovering guilt of Catholicism). As a supplement to our current ways of expressing ourselves, this is great! But there is a danger in over-romanticizing our pre-colonial history: we tend to ignore the impact of colonization on our modern culture, and in doing so we forget the reality of today’s Filipino. Also, we tend to have a monolithic view of our ancestors, seeing them as ascended masters, rather than what they truly were: human. Wise and gullible, loving and conniving humans—just like us today. The more we read about what they left behind, the more we realize that nothing much has changed, in terms of our core humanity.
Traditional/Indigenous Healer
Technically, anything I do is “indigenous,” since I’m from the Philippines. Just like a plant that is first discovered in a certain kind of soil and climate, I am indigenous to this country. But I’m not Indigenous with a capital “I.” I’m not trained in the ways of our local shamans, and anything that I know about traditional healing is from the documentation done by social scientists in the field. I don’t think this makes me any less Filipino, as if there’s a hierarchy of “Filipino-ness,” but I must admit my limitations—or rather, the scope of my knowledge. There are many well-documented rituals done by various Indigenous groups, especially those who have resisted the influence of colonialism. There are also many urban occultists who use Catholic symbolism in their animist practice.
What I have observed is that we have always used what is available to us. We don’t discriminate between sources of power. Imagine a businessman who has a bagua on the entrance of their door, and a Sto. Niño statue dressed in green (for luck) on a shelf in their office, right beside a golden maneki-neko. Their office might also be arranged according to the principles of Feng Sui, and blessed by a Catholic priest. Similarly, an ordinary Filipino home might have various religious medals cemented into its foundation, a statue of a Laughing Buddha at an auspicious corner of the house (likely right beside a crucifix), and a staircase that follows the principle of oro, plata, mata. We recognize that there are terrifying invisible forces beyond us, so we make the sign of the cross when passing by a church, and say “Tabi tabi po” when passing through a forest.1
What My Work is About
As someone born, raised, and living in the Philippines, I have never had any doubt that I am Filipino. As far as I know, foreign language and religious symbols have been used as tools for the expression of our deeper, native psychology. These are metaphors for the same psychospiritual reality. Our everyday behavior is also influenced by folk beliefs—don’t point at ancient trees, don’t open the door when someone knocks in the middle of the night, politely decline when a dead relative visits your dream and invites you to come with them, etc. My work, therefore, focuses on the psyche of the modern Filipino, which still draws from the indigenous wellspring. In essence, all I’m doing is pointing things out—things we know deep down, yet for some reason struggle to remember, like a dream upon waking. The work involves decolonizing—that is, challenging foreign standards, definitions, and ways of knowing—but it also involves indigenizing, which is studying commonsense psychology, or the psychology of the common tao. This is what anthropologist Zeus Salazar called kinagisnang sikolohiya.
I am a psychospiritual researcher. I look into Philippine folk psychology, not to find “the Filipino within,” but to look for the human being underneath the varied and magnificent metaphors of culture. My task is not to judge people for adhering to a certain belief system, but to question what makes people resonate with that belief system. I come into things with the assumption that a person wouldn’t believe in something if this didn’t resonate with some kind of internal truth. This truth is influenced by their current sociocultural context.
I approach with earnest curiosity rather than with the intention to criticize. Psychology should liberate rather than censor and repress. It should work towards solidarity rather than separation. Borrowing from Jay Yacat, an active advocate of the modern field of Sikolohiyang Pilipino, we can try to challenge the idea of being “maka-Pilipino” (Filipinized) and instead move towards being “maka-kapwa” (towards human-ness). And we do that by being present, seeing things as they are, here and now. Without having to regress to our origins, we can unearth what is timeless.
People use “syncretic” or “eclectic” to condemn the mixing of practices, as if there is such a thing as a “pure” traditions that is “corrupted” by overlapping usefulness. It reminds me of some of our most popular dishes, which we call “Filipino,” even though they have strong foreign influences.