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What Does Two-Thirds of All Members of the PH Senate Mean? And What a Difference Two Words Make!

Ben R. Olivas, Esq. — Wed, 23 Sep 2026 21:45:25 +0000

The Philippine Senate in their Oxford crimson robes prior to the impeachment trial of Vice President Sara Duterte (Source: GMA News/Facebook)

In the ongoing impeachment of the Philippine Vice President, Sara Duterte, the question of the moment is what does “concurrence of 2/3 of all the Members of the Senate mean?” Specifically, in the current context where, for many unrelated reasons, some senators have not attended (in whole or in part) the ongoing impeachment proceedings.

Article IX, Section 3, Paragraph 6 of the 1987 Constitution states,

The Senate shall have the sole power to try and decide all cases of impeachment. When sitting for that purpose, the Senators shall be on oath or affirmation. When the President of the Philippines is on trial, the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court shall preside, but shall not vote. No person shall be convicted without the concurrence of two-thirds of all the Members of the Senate.

Based on the language, it seems clear what the required vote is: 2/3 of the 24 members of the Senate – or at least 16 - must vote for impeachment.

However, in view of the peculiar circumstance, legal scholars and former jurists have argued that senators who have not attended the impeachment proceedings should not be counted in the denominator in computing the 2/3 vote requirement.

Prior to the 1935 Constitution, the Philippines did not have a republican form of government. Under the Tydings-McDuffie Act, the drafting, approval, and ratification of a constitution was a key requirement on the path to Philippine independence and self-rule. In drafting the constitution, the 1935 Constitutional Convention likely looked to the U.S. Constitution for guidance, including on the impeachment process.

Article 1, Section 3, Clause 7 of the U.S. Constitution provides,

The Senate shall have the sole Power to try all Impeachments. When sitting for that Purpose, they shall be on Oath or Affirmation. When the President of the United States is tried the Chief Justice shall preside; And no Person shall be convicted without the Concurrence of two thirds of the Members present.

Nonetheless, the drafters of the 1935 Philippine Constitution adopted a slightly different language:

Section 3. The Senate shall have the sole power to try all impeachments. When sitting for that purpose, the Senators shall be on oath or affirmation. When the President of the Philippines is on trial, the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court shall preside. No person shall be convicted without the concurrence of three-fourths of all the Members of the Senate.

The 1935 Constitution made two changes:

· It added “ALL” before the phase “the Members of the Senate;” and

· It omitted “PRESENT” after the phase “the Members of the Senate.”

Did the 1934 delegates, led by Convention President Claro M. Recto intend a stricter and higher bar? Or were these just inadvertent changes?

Since the 1935 Constitution, there have been two others: the 1973 Constitution[1] and the current 1987 Constitution. Both have adopted and carried over the original language. Both constituent bodies let the difference from the U.S. Constitution stand. So, 91 years later, we now ponder the question, what do these words mean?

With respect to the rationale for the 2/3 requirement, a succinct review of the U.S. Constitution sheds light:[2]

The Philippine Senate Building (Source: Brutalist Pilipinas/Instagram)

The English and colonial history thus informed the Framers’ consideration and adoption of impeachment procedures at the Constitutional Convention. In some ways, the Framers adopted the general framework of impeachment inherited from English practice. The English Parliamentary structure of a bicameral legislature—dividing the power of impeachment between the “lower” house, which impeached individuals, and an “upper” house, which tried them—was replicated in the federal system with the power to impeach given to the House of Representatives and the power to try impeachments assigned to the Senate.

Influenced by the impeachment experiences in the colonies, the Framers ultimately adopted an “Americanized” impeachment practice with a republican character distinct from English practice. The Framers’ choices narrowed the scope of impeachable offenses and persons subject to impeachment as compared to English practice. For example, the Constitution established an impeachment mechanism exclusively geared toward holding public officials, including the President, accountable. This system contrasted with the English practice of impeachment, which could extend to any individual save the Crown and was not limited to removal from office, but could lead to a variety of punishments. Likewise, the Framers adopted a requirement of a two-thirds majority vote for conviction on impeachment charges, shielding the process somewhat from naked partisan control. This protocol also differed from the English practice, which allowed conviction on a simple majority vote. In England, the Crown could also pardon individuals following an impeachment conviction. In contrast, the Framers restricted the pardon power from being applied to impeachments, rendering the impeachment process essentially unchecked by the executive branch. Ultimately, the Framers’ choices in crafting the Constitution’s impeachment provisions provide Congress with a crucial check on the other branches of the federal government and inform the Constitution’s separation of powers.

The 2/3 voting requirement was an entirely American creation designed to protect the process from partisan monopoly by the majority. This is consistent with the “checks-and-balances” approach by the U.S. framers.

In the U.S. political context, the Impeachment Clause has been invoked many times. In fact, the very first one involving a federal officer is most informative to the Duterte impeachment trial.

John Pickering, a federal district judge, was impeached by the House of Representatives in 1803 and convicted by the Senate on March 12, 1804. He was accused of drunkenness, blasphemy on the bench. Following debate in closed session, the Senate voted to allow evidence of Judge Pickering’s insanity, drunkenness, and behavior on the bench.

During the trial, objections to the framing of the question at issue caused several Senators to withdraw from the trial. Also, the Senate rejected a resolution to disqualify three Senators, who were previously in the House and had voted to impeach Judge Pickering, from participating in the impeachment trial.

Because of the refusal by some senators to sit as jurors, the 2/3 vote needed was based on less than the full Senate. But since the U.S. Constitution required “concurrence by two thirds of the Members present,” there was no controversy.

In view of the peculiar circumstance, legal scholars and former jurists have argued that senators who have not attended the impeachment proceedings should not be counted.

Final Thoughts
Given that the origin of the provision dates back to 1934, and the short timeframe given to the 1986 Commission to complete its work,[3] it is unlikely that the drafters of the current Constitution gave it more than a passing thought. Most likely, they surmised the prior language was good enough. After all, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Boy, did we find out!
Indeed, in his legal memorandum, retired Chief Justice Hilario Davide, confirmed that there was no debate on the phrase “all members of the Senate” during the deliberations of the 1971 Constitutional Convention and the 1986 Constitutional Commission. Perhaps the next step is to examine the records of deliberations by the 1934 Constitutional Convention for any glimpse of guidance.
So, we are back to where we started. What does the following sentence mean?
No person shall be convicted without the concurrence of two-thirds of all the Members of the Senate
On its face, the addition “ALL” and deletion of “PRESENT” supports the plain reading that the denominator is always 24. The divergence from the more favorable U.S. constitutional language does not – by and of itself - support a situational interpretation based on current events. Ironically, if the 1934 framers simply carried over the U.S. constitutional language, this more expansive reading would be the correct reading.
In the end, the controversy could simply be explained and put to rest as “scrivener’s error.” “[A] case in which the words of a legislative text diverge from what Congress meant to say.”[4] That is, a “mistake of expression” as opposed to a lapse of “legislative wisdom.”[5] Otherwise, under the drama of the Duterte proceedings, the impeachment clause is a toothless tiger.

Footnotes:
[1] Article 13, Section 3 of the 1973 Constitution, states: “Section 3. The National Assembly shall have the exclusive power to initiate, try, decide all cases of impeachment. Upon the filing of a verified complaint, the National Assembly may initiate impeachment by a vote of at least one-fifth of all its Members. No official shall be convicted without the concurrence of at least two-thirds of all the members thereof. When the National Assembly sits in impeachment cases, its Members shall be on oath or affirmation.” (Underscoring supplied.)
[2] “Impeachment and the Constitution.” US. Congressional Research Service, CRS Report R45013 (Updated December 6, 2023, p. 17. Footnotes omitted.
[3] The 1986 Commission completed its task in five months (June 2 to October 15, 1986). This is about the same period as the 1934 Constitutional Convention which convened from July 30, 1934 to February 19, 1935
[4] Doerfler, Ryan, “The Scrivener’s Error.” Northwestern Law Review, Volume 10, Issue No. 4 (June 23, 2016), p.816.
[5] Ibid., at p. 817.

Ben R. Olivas, Esq. was admitted to and is a member of the Philippine Bar 1988 (inactive); Admitted to and member of the California Bar (2009). Partner, DLA Piper LLP Silicon Valley (2008 to 2025); Partner, PricewaterhouseCoopers LLP Silicon Valley (1993 to 2008); Associate, Romulo Law Office (1988 to 1991); Ateneo Law School (1988); New York University, Masters in Corporation Law (1992); New York University, Masters in Taxation (1993). Ben retired from DLA Piper this year. He lives in the San Francisco Bay Area.

Love and Hard Times

Titchie Carandang — Wed, 23 Sep 2026 21:45:17 +0000

Book Review: Taxi Dancer by Marivi Soliven. Red Hen Press, 2026.

Marivi Soliven’s latest novel is a love story inspired by a 1935 murder case that took place in San Diego’s red-light district known as the Stingaree. In Taxi Dancer, we follow the story of the idealistic and romantic Eli Mata, who falls in love with the beautifully vulnerable Lucinda Lane, the red-haired star dancer at the Filipino-owned Rizal Dance Hall. Readers are drawn into a world that stretches from dusty asparagus fields to the steamy dance halls where men paid for the company—and dances—of taxi dancers.
Taxi Dancer is more than a romance. It is also a portrait of the lives of the manongs, Filipino men who traveled to the United States in the early 1900s in search of a better life. Many settled on the West Coast, working as agricultural laborers in California and Washington, while others traveled farther north to work in Alaska’s fish canneries.
More Americans are learning about the manongs and their lives, thanks in part to the growing recognition of their role in U.S. history. Filipino American labor leaders Larry Itliong, Philip Vera Cruz, and Peter Gines Velasco were featured in Marissa Aroy’s Delano Manongs: Forgotten Heroes of the United Farm Workers and the PBS docuseries Asian Americans. More recently, they were honored for their contributions by the Department of Labor, which included them in its Wall of Honor in 2024. Itliong’s life has also been the subject of several books, including Journey for Justice: The Life of Larry Itliong, by Dr. Dawn Mabalon and Gayle Romasanta, which became the basis for Larry the Musical: An American Journey.
Those who have visited the Smithsonian’s How Can You Forget Me exhibit, which shares the stories of early Filipino immigrants in Stockton, California, will find that many of the artifacts displayed there come to life in Soliven’s carefully crafted novel. It is easy to imagine Eli, a recent transplant from the Philippines, transforming from a Filipino agricultural worker, carrying his treasured set of tools, into a dashing and sophisticated gentleman dressed in the highly coveted and iconic Macintosh suit, ready to spend his hard-earned money on a few minutes of ballroom dancing with the lovely taxi dancers employed at the Rizal Dance Hall.
Soliven is no stranger to writing about the immigrant experience. Her novel, Mango Bride tells the story of two Filipino women from opposite sides of the social spectrum who moved to the United States. Pandemic Bread, one of her essays from Suddenly Stateside: Funny Essays on Pinoy Life in America was turned into a short film by Zeinabu Davis with Princess Punzalan leading the cast.

Marivi Soliven

Soliven describes Filipino American history as “grim,” noting the indignities and discrimination experienced by early Filipino immigrants. In 1935, Eli and Lucinda, like the rest of the country, were living through the Great Depression. The Dust Bowl migration—when white families from Oklahoma, Texas, Arkansas, and Missouri migrated to California—displaced Filipino and Mexican agricultural workers. Just a year earlier, the status of Filipinos had changed from U.S. nationals to aliens after the Tydings-McDuffie Act was passed. The act promised Philippine independence but also limited the number of Filipinos allowed to immigrate to the United States. Since Filipinos were classified as aliens, this also prevented them from owning property or businesses in states that enforced the Alien land law.
Mixed-race marriages were illegal in California, where anti-miscegenation laws remained in place, forcing Eli and Lucinda to hide their relationship from everyone who knew them. The Filipino Repatriation Act of 1935 offered free one-way passage to the Philippines for Filipinos who did not have the financial means to return home. Though unintentional, the parallels between the experiences of immigrants in the 1930s and the present-day situation in the United States can feel eerily familiar—and disturbing.
Soliven first found the newspaper article that inspired the novel in 2001, while she was working in the archives of the San Diego History Center. The writing, however, began years later, when Soliven won the Writer-in-Residence Hedgebrook Fellowship, which gave her the time and space to begin Taxi Dancer.
For a work of fiction, Soliven conducted an enormous amount of research to recreate 1930s San Diego. She unearthed newspaper articles in the San Diego library, reviewed court trial papers, consulted with lawyers, and read academic papers about taxi dance halls and the history of Filipino Americans in California. Among the books she consulted was the late Dr. Dawn Mabalon’s Little Manila Is in the Heart.
After completing the novel in 2016, Soliven spent another ten years searching for a publisher for Taxi Dancer. Despite the success of her earlier award-winning novel, Mango Bride, the rejections were plentiful. She documented them all in a color-coded spreadsheet. The process was discouraging, but “I had to keep going until I found a home for it,” Soliven explained.
She was determined that Taxi Dancer was a story that needed to be told. So many Filipino stories, she pointed out, have been forgotten, including the role of Filipino soldiers during World War II and the struggles of the manongs. “This is a history that people don’t know about,” she said. There was more to these men than their identities as laborers: they also wore suits like movie stars, frequented dance halls, and hoped to fall in love.
Finding the right publisher took time. Soliven submitted her manuscript to Red Hen Press after reading Monica Hernandez’s blog post calling for more Filipino American writing. Hernandez, Red Hen’s media director, is always on the lookout for Filipino voices as part of the press’s “quest for representing marginalized communities.”
Soliven joins several Filipino American writers published by Red Hen Press, including E.P. Tuazon, whose collection of essays, A Professional Lola, was published in 1994. That fall, two more Filipino American writers are scheduled to join the press: Nita Noveno, whose hybrid memoir Mud on the Moon explores growing up in Alaska, and Aimee Suzara, whose poetry collection birth language is also slated for publication.
After reading the manuscript, Kate Gale, co-founder and publisher of Red Hen Press, immediately knew they wanted to publish Taxi Dancer. Hernandez was equally effusive, citing the “beautiful writing and the story,” as well as the combination of elements—“historical fiction, interracial and forbidden romance, murder”—that would appeal to different audiences.
Perhaps more importantly, Hernandez sees tremendous hope in Taxi Dancer. She points to characters who, “despite society and its unjust laws,” continue to act out of love, even when they themselves are flawed. Their actions, she says, are “always led with love.”

Readers are drawn into a world that stretches from dusty asparagus fields to the steamy dance halls where men paid for the company—and dances—of taxi dancers.

Soliven insists that all she wants to do with Taxi Dancer is tell a story. She has written a poignant love story set during a difficult period for Filipinos, when they were unwanted, misunderstood, and mistreated. She writes about love and hate, and in doing so, reminds us of the power of fiction to make history personal.
As John Hersey, the author who revolutionized journalism with his landmark New Yorker article about Hiroshima, said in the recent Netflix The New Yorker at 100 documentary, “I think fiction is much more powerful for readers in looking at grand and terrible events because the reader can identify with a character.”
Taxi Dancer does exactly that: it invites us to see, feel, and experience a largely forgotten chapter of Filipino American history through the lives of two people who dared to fall in love.
Taxi Dancer by Marivi Soliven
Published by Red Hen Press
Launch: September 29, 2026
Book Events here.

Titchie Carandang is a freelance writer. Her articles have been published in the White House Quarterly, Northern Virginia Magazine, Metro Style, Connection Newspapers and other publications. She is the co-founder and was co-director of the Philippines on the Potomac Project (POPDC), where she researched Philippine American history in Washington, D.C. She has received awards from the Philippine American Press Club, the Mama Sita Foundation, and the Doreen Gamboa Fernandez Food Writing Award for her writing.

More articles from Titchie Carandang

A Fight Song for Alex

Gary Manalus — Wed, 23 Sep 2026 21:45:09 +0000
On a Monday afternoon, I sat beside a close family member in a hospital room and watched Alex Eala finish what rain had interrupted the day before. She came back to the court at the D.C. Open and took the title, no fear, all determination. In a room where there was little I could control, her fight gave us something we badly needed: hope.
The week had started with canceled flights, more than once, and a night stranded in a random hotel with no idea when I'd actually make it to my destination. By the time I finally did, I realized how small those travel problems were compared with what my family was facing.
I won't get into specifics, it's not mine to tell, but I will tell you it was scary. That's where Alex Eala came in.
We started talking about her. Her run through tennis, her run through everything. Her work ethic, dedication, the way she carries herself through every point. As Filipinos, we were just proud watching her climb. More than that, we understood what it meant to keep fighting when the outcome was uncertain.

Alex Eala winning the 2026 D.C. Open (Source: Alex Eala's Instagram)

To me, laban has always meant more than its direct English translation, "fight." It's what Filipinos say when there's no easy answer: keep going, stand your ground, don't give up. It can be a battle cry, an encouragement, or a promise that you'll stay beside someone through whatever comes next.
So I caught #EalaMania and wrote a song. I called it LABAN (A Fight Song for Alex Eala). I wrote it for Alex, my family, and the wider Filipino community, all at once.
My family member is recovering now. I don't think it's an exaggeration to say Alex gave us something to hold on to during one of the scariest weeks of our lives. Somewhere in the middle of that week, the song became bigger than the reason I wrote it.
I first shared LABAN on my social media channels on August 10, 2026. Within six weeks, the song and the content around it had crossed over 2.5 million combined views. Filipino fans were already rallying behind the word ”laban” for Alex, on signs, on hats, in comment after comment. I didn't create that. It was already alive in our community. I just got to add a verse to it.

Filipino fans holding their "Alex LABAN!" signs, US Open 2026 (Photo by Gary Manalus)

And the energy caught on. My son Teo, six years old, made his own "LABAN, Alex!" poster before I'd even finished the recording. A friend started designing "Alex, LABAN" posters and cheer cards, A local studio brought them to life, and together we gave away more than 1,000 of them over three days at the US Open.
A family friend donated hand fans reading "LABAN, Alex!" and "NY Loves Alex!," and even made an Alex Eala doll, just to add more joy to something that had already stopped being just mine.
A handful of singers started adding their own voices to the song too, among them 11-year-old Star Search Juniors Music Champion Madison Lauren, who's signed to release an official studio recording of LABAN later this year.

Filipinos come out to support Alex Eala's Round 3 match, US Open 2026 (Photo by Gary Manalus)

A stranger I'd never met, a blogger posting recaps from the US Open, put up a Reel calling LABAN "the Eala anthem" and tagged me under it. That floored me. People who have no reason to know who I am have really taken to the song as a rallying cry for Alex and for underdogs everywhere.
A song I wrote from a hospital bedside made its way to Arthur Ashe Stadium and beyond, carried by a community that decided to make it theirs.

Filipino fans join Gary holding their LABAN signs on the subway platform in Flushing, NY (Photo by Gary Manalus)

This week, I'm headed to the Asian Games in Nagoya to support my niece Mylia Perez, who's playing on the Philippines National Softball Team, and to keep cheering for Alex. Part of me is still hoping there's a way, even a small one, to get this song in front of Alex herself.
Of course, I want her to hear it. But the community's already taught me something: LABAN doesn't belong only to me anymore. It belongs to everyone who's held up a sign, added a voice, or found a little strength in Alex's example.
Alex's fight gave my family something to hold on to when we needed it most. The song carries that forward now, from one person to another. If Alex hears it someday, I hope she hears our gratitude in every word of it.
Thank you, Alex. Laban!

Gary Manalus, Filipino American Brooklyn dad and songwriter, wrote and produced “LABAN (A Fight Song for Alex Eala).” The original recording features vocals generated using Suno AI. Visit garymanalusmusic.com for links to the music. With thanks to Jon Edward Manongdo, who started designing the "Alex, LABAN" artwork used in posters and cheer cards, and RL Samson at Design District Studios, who helped bring them to life. To Lorraine Marasigan, who donated the hand fans and made the Alex Eala doll. And to Camila Lorén Burns, Sophia and Zara Manongdo, Alysa Perez, and Madison Lauren, who lent their voices to the song. [Independent fan initiative. No affiliation with or endorsement by Alex Eala, her representatives, the USTA, or the US Open is implied.]

From Mindanao Dream-Makers, to the World

Elaine Joy Edaya Degale — Wed, 23 Sep 2026 21:45:01 +0000

New York State Assemblymember Steven Raga inducts the incoming officers of SoCSKSarGen-USA, now in its eighth year of bringing greater representation and visibility to the rich cultural heritage, traditions, and communities that shape the Mindanao diaspora in New York City. (Photo by Elaine J.E. Degale)

In Queens, the closing days of Buwan ng Wika (August) became a celebration of a region thousands of miles away from the United States but never too far away from the hearts of its diaspora.
At the Sheraton LaGuardia East Hotel in New York City, SoCSKSarGen-USA held its 3rd Biennial International Convention, bringing together artists, community leaders, cultural advocates and Filipino Americans whose roots reach into Southern Mindanao.
“Leading SocSKSarGen-USA is both a privilege and a responsibility,” says SoCSKSarGen USA President Jelin Asamoah. “It gives me the opportunity to bring together Filipinos from South Cotabato, Sultan Kudarat, Sarangani and General Santos City, while strengthening the bonds of our community here in the United States. This is about preserving our identity, celebrating our heritage, and creating opportunities for our members to connect, serve, and support one another.”
The ceremony opened with a Muslim and a Christian prayer, after the U.S. National Anthem and Lupang Hinirang, the Philippines’ National Anthem played. Consul general Juan Carlos Borromeo delivered a welcome speech in Hiligaynon. Assembly member Steven Raga, the first Filipino American elected into the New York State legislature was also in attendance, expressing his staunch support for Filipino Americans celebrating the rich heritage of Mindanao.
Traditional dance performances by Tribu Mindanao, and signature Filipino line-dancing followed. As the evening’s highlight, Sultan Kudarat Designer Jay-R Gamboa Flores, who flew to New York City from Mindanao, paraded his work to a diverse American audience. His muse Rain Batingana showcased his work. Batingana is the first transgender to model on Project Runway, Season 22, a milestone that placed Filipino transgender representation on one of American fashion television's most prominent stages.

Tribu Mindanao clad in indigenous attire prepares to perform Silong sa Ganding, a traditional Maguindanao dance associated with royal courts and performed to the silong, a musical rhythm produced on the gandingan, a set of four shallow-rimmed gongs played in a manner that evokes the human voice. The dance demands exceptional discipline and precision, with carefully controlled hand positions and movements reflecting the artistry and refinement of Maguindanao cultural tradition. (Photo by Elaine J.E. Degale)

Rain Batingana, Project Runway Season 22’s first Filipina transgender model, wears ALAB: The Spirit of Fire from Sultan Kudarat designer Jay-R Gamboa Flores’ DAMGO Collection, an opulent celebration of Mindanao heritage featuring intricate handcrafted beadwork inspired by Indigenous jewelry-making traditions across the region and the dreams carried across generations from Subsaharan Mindanao to the world. (Photo by Elaine J.E. Degale)

Flores’ signature heavily incorporates traditional Mindanaoan artistry. He uses indigenous-inspired textile patterns like T’nalak, Inaul, and landap, weaving traditions associated with the indigenous cultural communities of Mindanao, which Flores transformed into a contemporary fashion presentation in New York.
“What inspires me most is my love for my roots and the rich culture of Region XII. I want every design to tell a story about our people, our traditions, our creativity, and the beauty of Mindanao. Bringing elements of our culture into fashion allows me to share a piece of home with an international audience. For me, it is not only about creating beautiful clothes, but also about creating something that represents where I came from and makes our culture visible on a global stage.”

Founding President Rowena Meija Randman, Darlene Dilangalen, Luidi de Asis Hughes, Jay-R Gamboa Flores, with SocSKSarGen USA President Jelin Asamoah presented with awards at SoCSarGen USA's 3rd Biennial International Convention on August 29, 2026 (Photo by Elaine J.E. Degale)

Weaving Dream
Flores called his Fashion Show “Damgo," which means “dreams” in Hiligaynon. “I used Inaul and T’nalak/Inaul-inspired elements to highlight our indigenous weaving traditions, craftsmanship and the stories woven into every fabric. More than just the textiles, I wanted the collection to symbolize the journey of a Filipino dreamer—someone who carries their roots, culture and heritage wherever they go.”

Sultan Kudarat fashion designer Jay-R Gamboa Flores stands proudly with the models showcasing his DAMGO Collection, a powerful expression of diasporic beauty, ancestral heritage, and the dreams that carried his vision across oceans. What began as a dream of bringing Mindanao fashion to New York has become a runway moment where Subsaharan Mindanao takes its place on the global fashion stage. (Photo by Elaine J.E. Degale)

For his Damgo Showcase, Flores used hand-woven fabrics t’nalak, landap, and inaul – textiles inherent to the rich indigenous cultures of Mindanao. The t’nalak textile is considered a sacred traditional fabric made of abaca fibers woven by Tboli “dream-weavers” in the indigenous southern region of the Philippines. They are called dream-weavers because they get the inspiration for the pattern in their dreams.
Landap, on the other hand, is a malong (tubular garment) made of high quality silk, featuring embroidered designs called langkit, or curvilinear okir motifs that are sewn by the Meranao people of the Philippines. Inaul, traditionally associated with the Maguindanaon people of Mindanao, is a handwoven textile known for its intricate patterns and vibrant colors, and was one of the major textiles used in Flores’ fashion show.
Placed on a New York runway, these textiles carried a meaning that extended beyond fashion. They brought the material culture of Mindanao into a contemporary global setting, allowing ancestral techniques to participate in a living, evolving Filipino aesthetic.
“Creating and presenting Filipino-inspired designs on a runway in the United States is a very meaningful experience for me,” says Flores. “Being part of a fashion show in New York, especially during New York Fashion Week, made me realize that fashion can be a powerful bridge between cultures.”

Kay Habana wears DIWA: Threads of the B’laan, a piece from Sultan Kudarat designer Jay-R Gamboa Flores’ DAMGO Collection, inspired by the B’laan of Mindanao. Featuring traditional handwoven Gintlo fabric, intricate beadwork, and geometric details rooted in B’laan artistry, DIWA celebrates ancestral heritage and craftsmanship while bringing the visual language of Subsaharan Mindanao to the New York runway. (Photo by Elaine J.E. Degale)

Honoring Filipino American Contributions
The evening also marked a new chapter for SoCSKSarGen-USA with the induction of its new officers: President Jelin Asamoah; Internal Vice President Luisa F. Milone; External Vice President Maria Cora C. Tito; Secretary Nirvana Alpha “Pops” G. Fruylan; Treasurer Lodar D. Escobillo; Public Relations Officers Mandino Ballicud and Margaa Empress; Business Manager Fermin C. Fruylan III; and Project Managers Ana Marie Escobillo and Lara Athena Escobillo.

Assemblymember Steven Raga joins writers Elaine Degale and Taurenelle, Dare to Change CEO Clifford Temprosa, renowned floral and events designer Jerry Sibal, real estate broker Edwin Josue, and theater director Michelle Cuizon at SoCSKSarGen-USA’s 3rd Biennial International Convention in Queens. From politics and publishing to theater, business, real estate, and design, the room reflected the breadth of Filipino talent building careers, communities, and influence from the Philippines to New York City. (Photo by Elaine J.E. Degale)

The fashion showcase and induction of new officers was only one part of an evening devoted to recognizing the many ways members of the Southern Mindanao diaspora contribute to their communities. Six principal honorees were recognized during the convention for their contributions.
Six honorees were recognized for achievements in the arts, business, healthcare, education, cultural preservation and literature.
Angelo Antonio Maristela, a contemporary visual artist, has been exhibited internationally in New York, Qatar, Italy and the Philippines and is represented in the permanent collection of the West Point Museum’ Mario “Boyet” Albenio, owner of Tito Rad’s Grill in Queens, has spent two decades using his restaurant as a gathering place for Filipino American collaborations and community causes across New York and New Jersey.

Allan Virtucio, Ericamae Patricio, SoCSKSarGen-USA Award of Excellence recipient and Tito Rad’s Grill owner Mario “Boyet” Albenio, Darlene Borromeo, and Susan Albenio gather in celebration at the organization’s 3rd Biennial International Convention in Queens, embodying the style and pride of their Filipino-American roots. (Photo by Elaine J.E. Degale)

The fashion showcase and induction of new officers was only one part of an evening devoted to recognizing the many ways members of the Southern Mindanao diaspora contribute to their communities.

Cheryl Ann Fox, CRNA, a healthcare professional born to an indigenous princess of General Santos City, is recognized for her clinical and technical precision in surgical and critical-care settings. Charito Banquerigo, an early-childhood educator of more than two decades and cancer survivor is recognized for her enduring commitment to cultivating young minds.

Founding President Rowena Mejia Randman, Darlene Dilangalen, and President Jelin Asamoah honor Angelo Antonio Maristela, one of six principal awardees of excellence at SoCSKSarGen-USA’s 3rd Biennial International Convention, who is an acclaimed contemporary visual artist with his art represented in the permanent collection of the West Point Museum. (Photo by Elaine J.E. Degale)

Arlene Piang Toole, CEO of Blatik Foundation Inc., works to preserve, protect and promote Blaan culture through education and community support, guided by her belief that “poverty is not a barrier but a foundation for a mission.” This writer, Elaine Joy Edaya Degale, a Black Filipino writes under the pen name E.J. Dreamweaver, and her work includes Sunflower: Black Baby and a Book Nook library project in the Philippines supported by the National Book Development Board.

E.J. Dreamweaver, also known as Elaine Degale, is pictured here with her zine collection from Operation Ink Publishing House holding her Award of Excellence given by SoCSKSarGen-USA at its 3rd Biennial International Convention in Sheraton La Guardia East Hotel on August 29, 2026. (Photo courtesy of Elaine J.E. Degale)

Honoring a Community of Service
SoCSKSarGen-USA also recognized veterans and active-duty service members from diverse racial and ethnic backgrounds. Among the veterans were Lieutenant Colonel Edmund Oliveros, Chief Master Sergeant Buford C. Toole, Sergeant Keli K. Asamoah, Corporal Stephen Jesse Randman and Alvin Hower.
Also honored were active service members including Senior Officer Bernabe Gonzales, Petty Officer First Class Marco Paolo Ramirez, Technical Sergeant Rachelle Russel, Technical Sergeant Shane Russel, Senior Airman Julian Derick Estucado, Senior Airman Angelica Ramirez-Allera, and Airman First Class Jed Daniel Estucado.
Together with the six principal community honorees, the service members illustrated the breadth of the network SoCSKSarGen-USA has cultivated: a collection of talents building an American Dream.

Elaine Joy Edaya Degale is a Black-Filipina writer and lecturer at community colleges within the City University of New York (CUNY), and has an Ed.M. and M.A. from Teachers College, Columbia University.
She graduated cum laude from Mount Holyoke College where she studied International Relations and Development, and continues to support literacy and food programming efforts in indigenous communities through her Community-Based organization, OperationMerienda.org.

More articles from Elaine Joy Edaya Degale

A Crowning Ritual for ‘Living Ancestors’ Comes to San Francisco

Priscilla Cortez — Wed, 23 Sep 2026 21:44:50 +0000

A new generation of APDT dancers, Jenelle Gaerlan, Johan Casal and Jessica De Franco, perform with an ensemble of master artist musicians (Photo by Alyssa Cortez)

This October, San Francisco's Mission District will host a homecoming three decades in the making. From October 9 to 11, KULARTS presents Tubong to Living Ancestors at Dance Mission Theater, a three-night tribute that honors Filipino and Asian American legacy artists and culture bearers whose work shaped the Bay Area's diasporic arts landscape.
"Living ancestors" is not a figure of speech here. It's the production's organizing idea and its title. Rather than treat elders as figures of the past, Tubong insists on their presence in the room: the men and women being honored are still working, still teaching, still performing, still shaping what Filipino and Pan Asian American arts practice looks like today. Between them, the legacy artists honored across the three nights represent, by Panis's own conservative estimate, roughly five hundred years of combined artistic practice.
The production unfolds across three distinct threads. New choreographic works created for the occasion accompany restaged excerpts drawn from KULARTS productions of the 1980s and 1990s, danced by a new generation of company artists performing in the presence of the very artists who originated the material decades earlier.
A street procession, launching from 24th Street, carries the ceremony out of the theater and into the neighborhood itself, a gesture consistent with Panis' own long history of treating the Mission as an extension of the stage–from her years as a teaching artist at the Mission Cultural Center and at Dance Mission before it carried that name, through her later tenures at ODC Theater and Brava Theater.

An archival image from the Kulintang Arts Ensemble with Alleluia Panis and Marcella Pabros-Clark.
(Photo from the KULARTS Archive)

Music runs through all three nights under the direction of John Calloway, the Latin jazz multi-instrumentalist and longtime KULARTS collaborator, joined by saxophonist Francis Wong, bassist Chris Trinidad, and kulintang ensemble members Conrad Benedicto and Jinji Saysa.
Wong and Calloway are themselves among the evening's honorees, a doubling that reflects how tightly KULARTS' artistic and institutional history are woven together. Wong co-founded Asian Improv aRts in 1987 and has spent decades mentoring younger Asian American jazz artists. Calloway's four-decade career bridging Latin jazz and Filipino American music culminated in works like Buffalo Soldiers and the Philippine American War: A Crisis of Conscience."

John Calloway, music director for Tubong to Living Ancestors. (Photo by Bob Hsiang)

Francis Wong, saxophonist and longtime KULARTS collaborator. (Photo from the KULARTS Archive)

The honorees span disciplines. Poet and educator Oscar Peñaranda, a Leyte-born writer anthologized in the landmark collection Aiiieeeee!, reads on the second night. Genny Lim, San Francisco's ninth Poet Laureate and a longtime collaborator with Bay Area jazz musicians, appears on opening night.
Pianist and composer Jon Jang, another of the evening's legacy artists, will be represented in performance with his Butterfly Lovers Song. Dance figures include Jesselito Bie, an early member of the Alleluia Panis Dance Theatre who helped define the company's early repertoire in the 1990s. He later founded STEAMROLLER Dance Company, alongside original Kulintang Arts Ensemble members whose work from that same era rounds out a roster that reflects nearly four decades of KULARTS' own institutional history.

A live restaging of 1990 Sun & Moon, performed by Johan Casal and Jenelle Gaerlan, a new generation of company dancers. (Photo by Alyssa Cortez)

Tubong also marks a milestone for SOMA Pilipinas, the South of Market cultural heritage district, which co-sponsors the production as part of its tenth anniversary celebrations. The partnership situates the evening within a broader moment of institutional recognition for Filipino cultural infrastructure in San Francisco, one that KULARTS, itself approaching four decades of continuous programming, has helped build from the ground up.
At its core, Tubong hopes to demonstrate the breadth of artistic creation by Filipino and Asian Americans in the diaspora. The works being restaged and performed were not chosen simply for their history. Panis and the artists involved consider them excellent enough to belong on a list of classic works by Filipino and Asian Americans in the diaspora, a canon the community is naming and claiming for itself.

The production is the latest from Alleluia "Manai" Panis, KULARTS' Executive Artistic Director and one of the most enduring choreographic voices in Filipino American dance.

For Panis, the production is also personal. Many of the artists being honored are collaborators and contemporaries she has worked alongside since KULARTS' earliest years, some of them her own teachers and creative partners. The restaging of decades-old material is not an act of nostalgia, but a way of keeping a living lineage visible: proof that the work these artists began continues, danced now by hands that learned it from them directly.
Tubong to Living Ancestors runs October 9 through 11 at Dance Mission Theater, 3316 24th Street, San Francisco. Tickets and full program details are available via Dance Mission Theater.

Three of the original Kulintang Arts Ensemble members, Frances Cachapero, Anna Sun-Foo, and June Messina Oulette reunite on stage to celebrate the 40th Anniversary of KULARTS in 2025 (Photo by Alyssa Cortez)

Priscilla "Pia" Cortez is a Filipino American writer and digital communications strategist whose work spans culture, community and climate justice. Raised in Pampanga and shaped by San Francisco, she now splits her time between the Bay Area and Bohol, telling stories rooted in identity, place and the Filipino experience.

Jo Koy: The Joke’s on Marginalization

Cesar Polvorosa Jr. — Wed, 16 Sep 2026 15:45:11 +0000

Jo Koy (Source: Facebook)

We felt we needed some serious laughter.
So, on August 15, my wife, my son and I went to see Jo Koy perform at Casino Rama in Orillia, Ontario. I had been a fan of the Filipino American comedian for years and expected a good number of Filipinos in the audience. What surprised me was that only a minority appeared to be Filipino.
That realization stayed with me throughout the sold-out show. Here was a comedian whose material has long drawn on Filipino mothers, families, food, habits, accents and the peculiarities of growing up in a Filipino immigrant household. Yet here he was, performing before a predominantly non-Filipino audience in a small Ontario community far removed from the FilipinoAmerican communities where his career first took shape.
One of his early jokes was about not expecting so many people to turn up in a small Canadian town like Orillia. The audience roared.
The joke pointed to something larger.
The Filipino experience had ceased to be merely the subject of Jo Koy's comedy. It had become part of the cultural vocabulary of the mainstream. That, I would argue, is the larger Jo Koy Story—And A Story About Diasporic Capital.
He Was Supposed to Get a ‘Real Job’

Jo Koy at Comic-Con in San Diego (Photo by Gage Skidmore/Wikipedia)

Jo Koy, born Joseph Glenn Herbert, is the son of a Filipina mother and an American father who served in the U.S. Air Force. His parents separated when he was young, and his mother, a single parent, raised four children.
This is a recurring theme in his routines: his mother could not understand why her son wanted to pursue comedy when he could get a stable, respectable job; become a nurse or a postal worker. Comedy? Why would you do that?
The joke is funny because Filipino immigrants immediately understand the logic: for a parent who has struggled to establish a family in a new country, a career is about security rather than self-expression.
Jo Koy has repeatedly mined this tension for laughs—the immigrant mother's bewilderment that her son would choose the uncertainty of entertainment rather than the conventional route to middle-class security.
The irony is extraordinary. The son encouraged to pursue a “real” career eventually built an enormously successful one by talking about his Filipino mother—the very mother who doubted that the act would amount to anything.
The first generation often pursues security through conventional occupations; the second can transform the cultural experiences of the immigrant household into new forms of value. Jo Koy did precisely that.

Jo Koy’s “Just Being Koy” Show (Photo by Cesar Polvorosa, Jr.)

From Being Different to Making a Difference
Jo Koy has spoken about racism, bullying and the experience of growing up between cultures. As the son of a Filipina mother and an American father, he did not always fit neatly into the racial categories around him.
The first generation learns how to survive in a new society. The second learns how to negotiate between the culture of home and the culture outside it. Sometimes that negotiation is painful: Why does my mother sound different? Why does my family eat different food? Why do we behave differently? Why do other children make fun of my family? Why don't I quite fit in?
Jo Koy eventually discovered another possibility: What if the difference itself could become an asset?
Comedy became his answer.
He began performing stand-up while struggling to establish himself. His early career involved small venues and years of rejection; mainstream gatekeepers did not immediately see the commercial potential in his material.
He has described how Netflix repeatedly rejected his Live From Seattle special, with the material considered too specific. Eventually, he financed the production himself. Netflix picked it up, helping propel him toward the mainstream.
The problem was not a lack of talent. It was getting through the door.
And Jo Koy has made that metaphor part of his philosophy. In In His Elements, filmed in the Philippines, he connected his own difficulty getting through the door with his desire to help other Filipino performers get their opportunity.
Filipino Mom Becomes the Star

Josie Harrison, Jo Koy’s Mom (Source: Facebook)

Jo Koy's most famous character may not be Jo Koy at all. It is his mother.
His impersonations of his Filipina mother—her accent, anxieties, remedies, authority and Filipino way of dealing with her children—became central to his comedy.
But the humor traveled and found wide acceptance.
Non-Filipinos laugh because the deeper story is universal: mothers worry, embarrass their children and think they know best.
Jo Koy discovered something important: he did not have to erase the Filipino specificity of the story to make it universal. He could make the story more Filipino—and therefore more interesting to everyone else. Some non-Filipinos did not get the Vicks joke, but once they understood it was the ready medical ointment for any ailment by Jo Koy’s mother they found it amusing.
Immigrant communities often feel pressure to assimilate by minimizing their differences. Jo Koy took another route: he translated the difference rather than erasing it.
His mother became not an embarrassment to be hidden but a character to be celebrated. And eventually, the joke was on the old definition of success.
From Filipino audience to Everybody
This is where the audience I saw in Orillia becomes significant.
Jo Koy's early material resonated with Filipino audiences because they recognized themselves in it. Then other Asian Americans, Latinos and immigrants recognized their own family dynamics. Eventually, mainstream audiences discovered they did not have to be Filipino to understand the joke.
Yet as Jo Koy moves increasingly toward the mainstream, the Filipino roots remain visible. In Orillia, for example, he explained the meaning of Mahal Kita— “I love you”—to an audience that was predominantly non-Filipino. The joke worked not because everyone in the room already knew the phrase, but because they were willing to enter his cultural world.
As Jo Koy himself has said, “funny is funny.” This is the trajectory of his career: from ethnic recognition to cultural translation to mainstream acceptance.
His Netflix specials—Live from Seattle, Comin' In Hot, In His Elements and Live from the Los Angeles Forum—helped make that transition visible. The cultural specificity became the doorway to universality.
He has helped normalize Filipino cultural references in American and international popular culture. A Filipino mother is no longer necessarily an exotic character. She can simply be Mom.
Diasporic Capital
But beneath the laughter is a more serious immigrant story.
Jo Koy's experience of racial discrimination and cultural marginalization is part of the background to his comedy. His career demonstrates how humor can become a way of negotiating an identity once treated as peripheral.
This is one of the recurring trajectories of immigrant life: fighting through the margins and eventually turning the experience of marginalization into an advantage.
This is where Jo Koy's career becomes particularly relevant to the idea of Diasporic Capital.
Diasporic communities accumulate forms of capital that are not always visible on conventional balance sheets: linguistic capital, cultural knowledge, family networks, community relationships, shared memories of food, music and humor, and the ability to move between different cultural worlds.
Jo Koy possessed these resources almost instinctively. His Filipino identity connected him to a community; his American upbringing gave him access to mainstream culture; and moving between cultures gave him an ability to translate one world to another.
Eventually, that cultural capital became economic capital. But capital also circulates.
There is another dimension to Jo Koy's story that I find equally important. In In His Elements, filmed in the Philippines, he deliberately showcased Filipino comedians, musicians, DJs, B-boys and other performers. It was not simply a comedy special about the Philippines. It was also an opportunity to put Filipino talent before an international audience.
Diasporic capital becomes more powerful when it circulates. The point is not merely individual success. It is conversion and reinvestment.
Jo Koy has articulated this idea himself: after struggling to get through the door, he wanted to help Filipino performers get their opportunity.
The Filipino imagination
Jo Koy has repeatedly referred to Filipino figures who have crossed into global mainstream culture, Manny Pacquiao in particular.

Manny Pacquiao (Source: Wikipedia)

Arnel Pineda (Source: Wikipedia)

Pacquiao's emergence as a global boxing superstar mattered because he represented a Filipino succeeding on a global stage while remaining unmistakably Filipino.
Arnel Pineda represents another breakthrough. In Live from the Los Angeles Forum, Jo Koy tells Pineda's story as an example of someone from the Philippines overcoming enormous obstacles to become the lead singer of Journey. He turns Pineda's story into a comic story about fulfilling dreams. Jo Koy reminded the Orilla crowd that the lead singer of Journey is Filipino. Jo Koy recognizes himself in it: one fulfilled his dream as a comedian, the other as a rock star.
Philippines-Mexico Connection
One of the most interesting aspects of Jo Koy's comedy is his recurring attention to the relationship between Filipinos and Mexicans.
In Comin' In Hot, he described Filipinos as the “Mexicans of Asia” and used the joke to explain why Filipinos and Latinos often recognize something familiar in one another. He turned the routine into something of a history lesson, pointing to the centuries of Spanish Empire connection between the Philippines and Mexico. He revisited the theme in Live from the Los Angeles Forum, joking about similarities between Mexican and Filipino culture, language and family life.
This particularly caught my attention because I had explored this connection in my own Positively Filipino article, Finding the Philippines in Mexico, (June 2026). There I examined the historical and cultural relationship between the two societies. [https://www.positivelyfilipino.com/magazine/finding-the-philippines-in-mexico]
Jo Koy approaches the subject through comedy; I approached it through history and political economy. But we arrive at a similar realization: the Philippines has a deeper Latin American connection than many Filipinos recognize. Jo Koy's genius is to make that realization funny.
Family, Obligation and Success
There is also something deeply Filipino about the structure of Jo Koy's story. His comedy repeatedly returns to the idea that individual achievement is never entirely individual.
In many Filipino immigrant families, one member's success is understood as belonging partly to the family. The successful member becomes a source of support: tuition, job referrals, assistance and an expanding social network.
But it can also create something powerful: a distributed form of social capital. Jo Koy's story reflects that larger Filipino ethos of family, community and collective advancement.
There is an irony at the heart of Jo Koy's career. For years, immigrant cultures were expected to make themselves less visible in order to enter the mainstream.

He has demonstrated that Filipino identity does not have to be diluted in order [for it] to travel. It can travel widely in the mainstream because it is authentic.

Jo Koy did almost the opposite. He made the Filipino mother louder, the accent more recognizable, the family more chaotic. He made Filipino habits the material of his comedy, and then he invited everyone else to laugh with him.
The margins became the center. Cultural difference became commercially valuable, and the audience expanded far beyond the community from which the material originated.
Making the Room Bigger
On August 15, in Orillia, I could see just how big the room had become. He has demonstrated that Filipino identity does not have to be diluted in order [for it] to travel. It can travel widely in the mainstream because it is authentic.
And perhaps that is the joke that the old hierarchy never saw coming. The Filipino mother who wanted her son to get a practical job became one of the stars of his comedy.
The Filipino culture that once seemed too “specific” for mainstream entertainment became the foundation of his success. And the Filipino child who struggled to get through the door eventually began opening it for others.
The mother wanted a nurse. She got a comedian. And the comedian gave the Filipino diaspora something even more valuable: a bigger room in which to be Filipino.

Cesar Polvorosa Jr. is a professor of International Business and Economics at a Canadian university whose research and writing examine development, institutions and Filipino diaspora. He authored a book chapter on Filipino entrepreneurship in Canada published by the University of Toronto Press. He was nominated for the Pushcart Prize in Poetry, and his poetry and short stories had been anthologized in Asia and North America. He is an occasional contributor on economics, geopolitics, and international affairs to BusinessWorld, Interaksyon, and Philstar.

More articles from Cesar Polvorosa Jr.

Clarissa Mae Ragrag: From Busking to the Concert Stage

Julienne Loreto — Wed, 16 Sep 2026 15:45:03 +0000

Clarissa Mae Ragrag (Photo by Origins Inconclusive)

At just 23, Filipino British singer-songwriter Clarissa Mae Ragrag has an impressive résumé. Exactly ten years ago, she made history as the youngest ever winner of London’s biggest busking competition, Gigs. Stepping into the spotlight as simply Clarissa Mae, she opened for Filipino girl group BINI’s Wembley Arena concert in 2025, and was among the headliners for guitar manufacturer Gibson’s London show in June 2026.
All of this started with the most unlikely of people: Manny Pacquiao. As we all know, before his controversial political career, Pacquiao attracted international attention as a powerhouse boxer. Mae’s father, Christopher Ragrag, was a member of the band Rag Rag, which the athlete chose to play for his pre-match singer Madonna Decena.
As a child (she was born on April 12, 2003) Mae absorbed everything her dad did with the band. “That’s when I actually started singing, because I kinda got influenced by them,” she says. As Decena and the band performed Lupang Hinirang before Pacquiao’s boxing matches from 2009 to 2011, millions of viewers around the globe were itching to see the action begin. Mae, on the other hand, was far more interested in the music than the punches.
At six, she dipped her toes into musical theatre. It honed her vocal technique, especially her belting, which came in handy when she joined Gigs at 13. But her shyness was debilitating, something she candidly discusses in shy, one of the singles from her upcoming debut extended play (EP) the love songs. The alt-pop track opens with her six-year-old self’s laughter; its official visualizer also includes clips of her childhood.
She says she got “very emotional” writing shy because “it was telling my younger self, everything’s gonna be okay, and to not cage yourself up and [to not fear] the whole rejection thing, ‘cause that was a huge insecurity of mine when I was younger.” Her music teacher and loved ones had encouraged her to compete in Gigs to combat this self-doubt, but the feeling still lingers in the rest of the love songs. The EP as a whole is “lyrically insecure,” she admits, such as title track love songs (about her ex-boyfriend, and romantic anxieties in general) and its latest single anyway.

Insecurity isn’t always a bad thing, though. When I compliment her on the refinement and production quality of her music—something that artists from smaller labels often lack, even if they’re also talented like Mae—she attributes it to her insecurity about her musical output.
“I’m a bit of a diva when it comes to sound, and I think that’s just… that’s just me,” she says. “I’m a consumer myself, you know? I like listening to music.” Others always tell her to make music for herself. She asserts, “But I am making music for myself, because I’m making music for the consumer part of myself.”
She continues, “Like I know for a fact that if I were to just record a song and upload it without any thought about where the instruments are placed in the mix, how my vocals sound… personally, I wouldn’t enjoy it as much as if it was a bit more… what’s the word? Put-together.”
While she might label herself insecure, it’s evident that a lot of this insecurity is simply a young woman caring deeply for her craft. The more we talk, the clearer it becomes that Mae is immensely passionate and introspective.
She prefers to collaborate with people who share her enthusiasm. “I don’t wanna dominate the room; I’d rather it be two people working together and making something big,” she says. “I’m a huge believer of… if I’m working with a photographer, a videographer, a producer, or a band, I want them to enjoy what they’re doing.”

She points out, “I think people feel the difference between someone making something because they have to and someone who makes it because they actually like it.”
Her friend Cadyn Lewis, who has contributed to all of the EP’s songs so far, is one such person. She’d met him at a networking event. His expertise was UK dance, influencing her own drum and bass/UK garage production work in One Night Charm, which she performed at BINI’s Wembley stop. Although her friend’s influence was there, she says, “One Night Charm was purely produced by me.” Lewis added some final tweaks to Charm but allowing her to realize that she didn’t need anyone else to create a song for release was even more helpful.
“Not to sound political and stuff, but I think the music industry is still quite male-dominated,” she points out. “I always thought I needed a guy to produce music, but Cadyn kinda showed me, ‘You don’t need that. You just need your brain and your drive to produce music.’” In Lewis, Mae found a creative partner who supports her but also lets her call the shots, allowing her EP the love songs to flourish.
Although anyway is about feeling like you’re only second best to someone, the music video is more upbeat, showing Mae and Lewis hanging out on the beach. The clip was recorded on her mom Mary-Ann’s 1990s camcorder. That’s not the only connection to her family, however.The song itself is a pop track with bossa nova elements, paying tribute to her paternal grandfather, jazz instrumentalist Rudy Ragrag.
It may not be immediately recognizable, but her family’s impact upon her artistry is undeniable when she digs deeper into her songs. Mae describes her ethnicity as “75 percent Filipino, 25 percent Scottish,” with her mom from Manila and dad from Cagayan de Oro (CDO) never letting her lose touch of her Filipino heritage as she grew up in the UK. Her dad’s airline job also gave him family discounts, so Mae was able to visit the homeland pretty frequently.

She’s even aware of the differences between Tagalog and Bisaya people. Well, there’s the obvious: the languages. Big-city Manila is easier to visit than a province like CDO, so she’s picked up Tagalog over the years. She’s trying to learn Bisaya (Cebuano), but she can only understand it at the moment. “I’m jealous,” she quips when I demonstrate my own Bisaya fluency.
“I love both sides,” she says of her Filipino heritage. She adores the “collective” spirit in CDO. Manila, on the other hand, is “so populated, [so] everyone’s kinda just trying to hustle.” She loves how “very, very loud” her family is in CDO, in large part because “[Bisaya] is such an expressive language.” On the other hand, Manila offers her a sense of belonging too, where she can keep up with the local tongue. Although she finds Manileños more “reserved” on average, she notes that “I can joke around more in Tagalog. I can communicate more in Tagalog.”
In true Filipino fashion, she was a bona fide biritera (belter) as a kid. “Up until COVID, I was a huge belter. All I did was belt,” she says. Although formally released in May 2023, a few years into the pandemic, her pop-rock song why am i here? gives glimpses of her past biritera style. “I really liked doing that stuff at the time. But after COVID, I was a bit like, ‘What am I doing?’ As much as I enjoyed it, what was the reason for me actually doing it? I realized it didn’t feel like me.”
So she switched to softer tones, staying mostly in her lovely lower-mid range, which reminds me a lot of Icelandic jazz-pop singer Laufey. “I think I found my sound in terms of my voice,” Mae says. However, she’s practicing her belting these days — “not for my music,” she clarifies, “but just for me,[...] ‘cause I did really enjoy singing stuff like that.” She strives to keep the birit in her muscle memory, “but my original music, I like it where it is right now,” she affirms.
“I’ve been performing now for about ten years, which is insane.” When Mae says this, I can’t help interjecting, “And you’re so young.” With just a couple of years between us in age, I’m truly in awe of how hard she’s worked since she was a child.
“Thanks, man.” With a giggle, she says, “You’re so young too!” Hustling our entire lives almost feels mandatory for Gen Z, especially because we were born into an Internet-obsessed world. While many crash and burn, Mae considers her ten years so far as necessary training. “I’m kinda glad I started very young, ‘cause I’ve learned all the stupid mistakes,” she says.
Always bring extra guitar strings and capos, she knows now from her rookie mistakes. “It’s just really little things. Like I know now how my voice will be if I’m under air conditioning for the whole day, because the first time I was under air conditioning before a gig, I completely lost my voice.” If she can’t avoid the air-con, she keeps a bottle of hot water with her.
“You’ve been doing this for so long. Why haven’t you hit it big?” some people ask her. But she says she needed those ten years of preparation. Take the BINI concert, for instance. “I was given the opportunity [in] less than 24 hours,” she shares. “I feel like if I didn’t have ten years of experience, I would freak out on the stage.”
She corrects herself: “I was freaking out on the stage.” The gig gave her multiple firsts: first time performing without a guitar, first time performing in an arena, and first time performing with an in-ear monitor. However… “I was less freaked out than if I had no experience at all,” she concludes.

It may not be immediately recognizable, but her family’s impact upon her artistry is undeniable when she digs deeper into her songs.

“Yes, I may be singing on the streets. Yes, I may feel like no one is listening. But at the end of the day, I’m still practicing that skill of sing[ing] to people out loud.” If one of her songs gains traction or goes viral, she wants to be able to perform it properly live.
During our chat, Mae was vacationing in the Philippines, where she had been noticing an uptick in social media engagement for her new releases. Steadily taking shape is the payoff for all her years learning mic placement and other live singing essentials.
“Nothing’s fully finished when almost loving me,” Clarissa Mae wistfully sings to the aloof subject of anyway. In contrast, Mae doesn’t deal with the unfinished and the almosts. She took her time, and here she is now with an upcoming EP. Armed with a brain full of beautiful music and a voice to match, the young singer doesn’t rush. Instead, she pours her entire soul into her art.

Julienne Loreto (they/them) is a non-binary university student with roots in Bohol and Leyte. They are also a writer whose articles have been published in the prestigious music magazine The Line of Best Fit, as well as the Asian-American magazine JoySauce; their fiction stories have also been selected for publication by 8Letters and sold at the Manila International Book Fair.

More articles from Julienne Loreto

Overseas Filipino Achievers, Part 8

Mona Lisa Yuchengco — Wed, 16 Sep 2026 15:44:56 +0000

In keeping with Positively Filipino’s goal of celebrating the 13-million-strong (and counting) Filipino diaspora, we are launching a new series titled Overseas Filipino Achievers. The series recognizes outstanding Filipinos making their mark in various countries around the world. It builds on our popular and long-running feature, “FilAms Among the Remarkable and Famous.”
SAUDI ARABIA
Shendie Buenaflor, Human Relations

Shendie Buenaflor (Source: Global Filipino Magazine)

Buenaflor is the Human Capital Specialist for Apparel Group with a workforce of 26,000 employees. She handles cases involving workplace disputes, employment concerns, and other legal issues that can leave a migrant worker sleepless. Before taking on this job, Buenaflor worked in the Philippines in sales earning low “provincial wages” and at 18 years old, she left for an overseas job. As she made her way up the corporate ladder, the Gulf market shifted and she found herself at the bottom rung again.
Facing harsh treatment, isolation and a false legal case that nearly imprisoned her, she taught herself Saudi law, defended herself, and won. Now she uses the new knowledge to help other expatriates across the Gulf to find work and resolve employment problems. “The most satisfying part of my work is seeing someone go from uncertainty to stability, knowing that I played a role in giving them hope, dignity and a chance for a better future,” she said. She hopes to return to the Philippines and become a public servant.
Ruel Atun, Teacher

Ruel Atun (Source: Instagram)

Since 2013, Atun worked as a Training and Development specialist at Gas Arabian Services in Saudi Arabia. Twelve years ago, Atun arrived in Saudi Arabia with a teaching background and a desire to better support his family. Even before he left, Atun had already earned degrees -- Doctor of Philosophy in School Transformation from St. Paul University Manila, a Master of Business Administration, and a Master of Arts in Curriculum Design Development and Supervision, and he is also a Licensed Professional Teacher.
In 2018, he passed the Special Professional Licensure Examination for Teachers in the Middle East, and a year later founded Teacher A Review Center, an online platform that offers review programs for both the Middle East and the Philippines, producing thousands of licensed teachers. In 2022, Atun was recognized as The Outstanding OFW. “I find deep fulfillment serving as an Educational Advisor and Consultant,” he says, “facilitating programs specifically designed for OFWs — ensuring my fellow kababayans can advance their education and professional standing while working abroad.”
SINGAPORE
Aldo Lee Vie Taurean Fernandez, Consultant

Aldo Lee Vie Taurean Fernandez (Source: LinkedIn)

Fernandez is a Filipino educator, entrepreneur, and international business development leader based in Singapore. He serves as Business Development Director of Trent Global College and leads initiatives in international education, student mobility, employment placement, institutional internationalization, and humanitarian support across Asia.
Born and raised in impoverished beginnings in the Philippines, he graduated from the University of Santo Tomas with a degree in Arts and Legal Management. He was hired at the United Nations University of Peace program in Costa Rica, and then moved to Doha, Qatar where he built his networks as a professional in the region in the areas of HR management, administration, payroll, engineering and safety document control. Finally, he moved to Singapore where he provides the education and training sector for individuals and consultancy for people seeking to study or immigrate abroad.
AJ Eserjose, Entrepreneur

AJ Eserjose (Source: Bank Info Security)

Eserjose if the co-owner and co-founder of Lechon Republic Singapore and Charcoal & Crisp Lechon Sydney. Through his entrepreneurial vision, he continues to bring authentic Filipino flavors to international audiences while proudly showcasing the richness of Philippine cuisine and culture abroad.
From humble beginnings to building Filipino food brands across Singapore and Australia, Eserjose’s journey reflects the courage, perseverance, and determination shared by many Overseas Filipinos. His work goes beyond serving great food. It creates connections, preserves cultural identity, and gives Filipinos abroad a taste of home while introducing Filipino cuisine to a wider global audience.
SWEDEN
Dr. William Son Galanza, Nurse Researcher

Dr. William Son Galanza (Source: Lund University)

A postdoctoral researcher, educator, and clinician, Dr. Galanza’s interdisciplinary work focuses on improving the lives of older adults while advancing nursing science through international collaboration. Beginning his career as a young nurse in the Philippines, he was uncertain of what the future would hold but was motivated by a genuine desire to make a difference. Along the way, nursing opened opportunities in research, education, clinical leadership, and international collaboration while allowing him to remain grounded in the values of compassion, humility, and respect for human dignity.
“Nursing is not confined to the four corners of a care facility,” he explains. “It can lead to opportunities in research, innovation, technology, and leadership that ultimately improve patient care and people’s lives.” His research on digital health and artificial intelligence also highlights an important message for future nurses: compassion and innovation must go hand in hand. The future of nursing, he believes, requires both scientific curiosity and human empathy.
QATAR
Dr. Abdulkarim Agga, Nurse Educator

Dr. Abdulkarim Agga (Source: Global Filipino Magazine)

Dr. Agga is a Filipino nurse educator and an emerging researcher in the Middle East. As a Moro and a Tausug who grew up in the southernmost part of the Philippines, his story is one of resilience and possibility. He says that “one’s beginnings do not determine one’s future. Instead, courage, perseverance and a commitment to service create pathways to impact.” Registered as a nurse in the Philippines, Qatar and the United States, he has dedicated his career to advancing nursing education, caring science, leadership and professional development.
CANADA
John Dela Cruz, Nurse and Social Media Creator

John Dela Cruz (Source: Instagram)

Dela Cruz, or Nurse John as he is known, is not only a nurse but also a social media star. He is listed among the Forbes Top Creators 2026 after turning relatable stories about life in healthcare into a multimillion-dollar entertainment career. He ranked 28th on the list, with Forbes estimating his earnings at $7.2 million. He has 19.2 million followers. Forbes described him as a nurse-turned-comedian who “has turned hospital burnout into a multimillion-dollar stand-up career.”

The content creator built a massive online following through comedy videos inspired by the realities of nursing, from exhausting shifts and demanding patients to the shared experiences of healthcare workers. His skits, often featuring exaggerated characters and situations familiar to nurses, helped him expand beyond social media and into live entertainment. Nurse John has since transformed his online popularity into a successful stand-up career. According to Forbes, he sold more than 250,000 tickets for his Short-Staffed Tour in 2024, including sold-out runs in Australia and New Zealand. His international momentum continued in 2026, when he sold out 22 shows across Europe.
DUBAI
Gweys Soriano, Watch Empire

Gweys Soriano (Source: Facebook)

Soriano, now 11 years into her life abroad and based in Dubai, has built not one business but three: Watch Girl Dubai, an independent luxury watch sourcing and consulting venture; Decades Middle East, a personal styling and shopping consultancy; and KOBY — short for Keep On Being You — a fragrance brand she co-founded around the idea of authenticity. None of it was mapped out in advance. All of it, she insists, was preparation she didn’t know she was getting.
Soriano started as a journalism student hoping to build a career in Philippine media. She then moved to customer service, then into beauty and wellness until she and her husband decided to go to Dubai. Her path to watches came by way of fashion and she earned certification from the Foundation de la Haute Horlogerie. At Watch Girl Dubai, she helps clients acquire timepieces through a trusted network of collectors and industry professionals. At Decades, she conducts styling sessions, personal shopping experiences, and workshops for private groups and corporate clients.
AUSTRALIA
Violeta Lopez, Nursing Professor

Violeta Lopez (Source: UPNAAI)

Dr. Lopez completed her education in Australia obtaining a Master Degree in Management, a Master Degree in Professional Education and Training, and a PhD in Nursing. She has been a tenured Professor since 2000 and has worked in the Middle East, Hong Kong, Singapore, China and the Philippines. Her past notable positions have been as Head of the School of Nursing at the Australian Catholic University and as an International Dean of the College of Nursing in Hubei University of Medicine, China. Her landmark achievements include securing research grants and publishing 350 journal articles, chapters and books.
She is a respected peer reviewer and serves on the editorial boards of numerous medical and nursing journals and Associate Editor of three nursing journals. She has been inducted into the Sigma Theta Tau International Researcher Hall of Fame and as a Transcultural Nursing Scholar. She is the President Emeritus of the Filipino Nursing Diaspora Network. Professor Lopez has nurtured 30 international PhD students and her esteemed research reputation has led her to serve as external examiner for 60 PhD students from 12 countries. She has been a regular grant reviewer for Health and Medical Research Fund from The Government of the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region. She is repetitively honored by Stanford and Elsevier in the top 2% World Scientist.
ITALY
Mercy Malabanan, Household Head

Mercy Malabanan (Source: Facebook)

Malabanan’s videos online have a following of 157,000 on Facebook and 11,000 on Instagram as followers can related to her OFW experience. She manages her employer’s private palazzo in Milan. She prepares meals, lays out clothes and shoes, and maintains the four floors and eight bedrooms, along with Amore, her husband. When her employer travels, Ate Mercy (as she is fondly called) travels with her to her bases in Paris, Switzerland, and Geneva. In each residence, there is a dedicated staff, but it’s Ate Mercy who holds the thread in Milan. She prepares Italian dishes–she had formal culinary training and language classes too..
For four years, Malabanan did not post on Facebook as she didn’t want her children, then age 12 and 7 when she left Batangas, to “see only the surface of Europe’s beauty and gloss over the sacrifice underneath it.” She wanted them to understand that this life was work and that it was for them. The children, now graduates of Mapua University, want their parents to come home. In Batangas, one son is cultivating a farm, while the other dreams of opening an Italian restaurant.

The Heartbreaking Weight of Loving a Country

Roderick (Derick) dela Cruz — Wed, 16 Sep 2026 15:44:44 +0000

Dela Cruz presenting at a conference in the U.S. (Photo courtesy of Derick dela Cruz)

I left the Philippines decades ago with a simple dream: to build a better life, to grow as an engineer, and to someday return home with knowledge that could help my country rise.
America gave me opportunities I never imagined—leadership roles, major engineering projects, and a career that allowed me to provide for my family and serve communities with excellence and integrity.
But even as I thrived abroad, the Philippines never left me. It stayed in my heart—in the memories of childhood streets, in the laughter of my people, in the resilience I carried everywhere I went. I promised myself that one day, I would return not just as a son coming home, but as a Filipino ready to give back.
And I did.
I returned as a Balik-Scientist, carrying decades of experience, research and leadership. I worked with government agencies, universities and local communities. I poured my energy into projects that could strengthen infrastructure, improve safety and build resilience. I believed—truly believed—that the Philippines could rise if only we invested in science, engineering and honest governance.
When I received a Presidential Award, I felt proud—not for myself, but for what it symbolized: that the Philippines still recognized excellence, still valued service, still believed in its people. I thought it was a sign that change was possible.

Dela Cruz receiving a Presidential Award from President Benigno Aquino III (Photo courtesy of Derick dela Cruz)

But over the years, I have watched my country struggle under the weight of its own system.
I have seen brilliant ideas crushed by bureaucracy. I have seen good people silenced by corruption. I have seen communities suffer because of political dysfunction. I have seen hope dim because the system protects itself more than it protects the Filipino people.
And now, I find myself wrestling with a painful truth: I am losing hope.
Not because the Filipino people are weak—they are among the strongest, most resilient people on Earth. Not because the Philippines lacks potential—it is rich in talent, resources, and spirit. Not because I no longer love my homeland—I love it more than ever.
I am losing hope because the system is destroying the country from within.
It is heartbreaking to witness a nation with so much promise held back by corruption, patronage, and dysfunction. It is painful to see families suffer while leaders argue. It is exhausting to fight for reforms when the system resists change at every turn.
I returned home believing I could help fix the cracks. But the cracks were deeper than I imagined. They were not just structural—they were systemic. They were not just political—they were cultural. They were not just temporary—they were generational.
And yet, even in my frustration, even in my exhaustion, even in my fading hope, I cannot stop loving the Philippines.

I may be losing hope—but I am not losing love. And sometimes, love is the only thing that keeps me standing.

Because love is not blind. Love sees the truth. Love confronts the pain. Love demands better.
I speak because I care. I advocate because I believe Filipinos deserve dignity. I fight because I refuse to accept that dysfunction is our destiny.
I may be losing hope—but I am not losing love. And sometimes, love is the only thing that keeps me standing.
My prayer is simple: That one day, the Philippines will become the nation its people deserve. That one day, our systems will match our potential. That one day, our leaders will honor the sacrifices of our people. That one day, hope will no longer feel like a burden, but a promise.

Roderick (Derick) dela Cruz is a former Balik-Scientist, a professional engineer in the U.S. and the Philippines, and a recipient of a Presidential Award.

Ube or Not Ube: The Philippines’ Next Big Export?

Rene Astudillo — Wed, 09 Sep 2026 16:40:37 +0000

Ube (Photo by Elmer Centeno Guevarra/Wikimedia)

Who would have thought that one of the Philippines’ most humble crops could become one of its most exciting export opportunities?
Ube.
For generations, Filipinos have eaten it in halaya (curd), ice cream, cakes, pastries and countless other desserts. We never thought much about it. It was simply ube.
But the rest of the world is beginning to discover what Filipinos have known all along.

Ube Halaya (Source: Wikimedia)

Ube is becoming fashionable.
Walk into cafés and bakeries in the United States, Europe, Australia, Japan or South Korea and you are increasingly likely to find ube lattes, ube croissants, ube doughnuts, ube cheesecakes and ube ice cream.
Social media has helped turn it into something of a global food phenomenon. But this is beginning to look like more than just another Instagram or TikTok food craze.
Following the Purple
The money is starting to follow the purple.
Philippine ube and ube-based exports reached about US$3.06 million in 2025. That is still tiny compared with the country’s traditional agricultural exports, but it is significant because it shows that international interest in ube is becoming a genuine commercial opportunity rather than merely a cultural trend.
And unlike many food fads that disappear as quickly as they arrive, ube has something going for it that could give it staying power.
It is different.
For one thing, there is that color. Ube is not just purple. It can be an almost startlingly deep purple. And that is both its biggest selling point and, potentially, its biggest problem.
People who have never encountered ube before can be hesitant when they see it. Is that color natural? Is it food coloring? What does a purple yam actually taste like?
We are accustomed to food looking a certain way. Strawberries are red. Bananas are yellow. Carrots are orange. Potatoes are brown or white.
Then along comes ube, looking like somebody dropped a bottle of purple dye into a yam. But that is precisely what the Philippines should capitalize on.
Sell the Purple
In a world where restaurants and food companies are constantly looking for something visually different, ube has a built-in advantage. Put an ube pastry beside an ordinary chocolate pastry and guess which one people are more likely to photograph and post on social media.
But color alone will not create a lasting international market. The taste has to deliver. And ube does.
It has a distinctive sweetness and aroma, with a flavor that many describe as nutty, creamy and almost vanilla-like. Certain varieties, particularly Bohol’s prized ubi kinampay, are valued for their exceptionally fragrant character.

Ubi kinampay (Source: Lunti PH/Facebook)

That makes ube much more than a purple food coloring. It is a flavor. And that distinction is important.
The Philippines should not simply export ube. It should build “Philippine Ube” into a brand. Think about what Japan has done with matcha. Or what Canada has done with maple syrup. The Philippines has an opportunity to do something similar with ube.
And there are already signs that the government is beginning to recognize its potential.
The Department of Agriculture has recently distributed about ₱2.6 million worth of ube planting materials to farmers in Leyte and Bohol, helping expand production of a crop whose international demand is growing.
That may sound like a small investment compared with the billions generated by the country’s traditional agricultural exports. But every major industry has to start somewhere. And ube is particularly interesting because we don’t have to limit ourselves to exporting the raw crop.
We can export ube powder. Ube puree. Ube extract. Frozen ube. Ube fillings. Ube beverage ingredients.

Ube Flavouring (Source: Reddit)

Ube products that can be shipped around the world and used by food manufacturers, pastry chefs, restaurants and beverage companies.
That is where the real money could be.
Instead of remaining simply a supplier of raw agricultural products, the Philippines can become a supplier of higher-value, uniquely Filipino ingredients.
But there is a warning here.
We should not allow ube to become another Philippine agricultural product where foreign companies make the big money while Filipino farmers remain at the bottom of the value chain.
If ube becomes a global phenomenon, Filipino farmers should be among its biggest beneficiaries.
That means better planting materials, technical assistance, reliable markets, processing facilities, quality standards and a supply chain capable of meeting international demand.
It also means protecting the identity of Philippine ube and, eventually, developing premium products around distinctive local varieties.
The opportunity is there. The world is curious about ube.
The deep purple may initially make some people hesitate. But curiosity is exactly what gets people to try something new.
And once they try it, the purple suddenly doesn’t look so strange. It looks delicious.

The Philippines should not simply export ube. It should build “Philippine Ube” into a brand. Think about what Japan has done with matcha.

That is the opportunity the Philippines should seize.
We have spent decades exporting bananas, coconuts, pineapples and other agricultural commodities.
Perhaps our next big agricultural export won’t be yellow, green or brown.
Perhaps it will be purple. Ube could be the Philippines’ next great export.
And for once, the world is already asking us for it.

Rene Astudillo is a writer, book author and blogger and has recently retired from more than two decades of nonprofit community work in the Bay Area. He spends his time between California and the Philippines.

More articles from Rene Astudillo

Little Manila: Filipinos Bite a Piece of the Big Apple

Sophie Festejo — Wed, 09 Sep 2026 16:40:31 +0000

A block of Little Manila, filled with Filipino business establishments (Photo by littlemanilapark.com)

Amid the bustling streets of Jackson Heights and Woodside, Queens, lies New York City’s very own piece of the Philippines.
Along an eight-block stretch of Roosevelt Avenue, the aromas of traditional Filipino dishes linger from Kabayan restaurant. Customers gather at Phil-Am Food Mart, converse with employees in Tagalog, and leave with bags of Filipino staples. This area, packed with Filipino culture, is known as “Little Manila.”
Little Manila is more than a street filled with businesses and restaurants. For many Filipino immigrants and Filipino Americans, it not only cures homesickness and strengthens cultural connections, it also is a community. With a population of over 50,000 Filipinos in surrounding neighborhoods, it makes New York City feel a little more like home.
The community dates back to the 1970s, when New York City hospitals recruited nurses from the Philippines, who brought their families and their culture with them. Many Filipinos resided in parts of Queens and quickly surrounded the streets with pieces of their culture. The street was officially recognized as Little Manila Avenue in 2021, with street signs solidifying the name in 2022.

Little Manila Avenue official street sign that was established in 2022 (Photo by Rose Anne Cox-Peralta/1010wins)

“Once you come here, it’s like pure gold,” said 24-year-old Ken Gurdien who co-runs Amazing Grace Grocery convenience store in Little Manila. “The restaurants smell like the carinderias in the Philippines,” he said, referring to food stalls commonly found lining the streets of the Philippines.
Gurdien’s family immigrated to the U.S. in 2022, while Gurdien stayed behind in the Philippines. “I had my own dreams, and I wanted to stay in the Philippines to continue pursuing my band,” he said. Unfortunately, the COVID-19 pandemic forced Gurdien to change his plans. He then joined his family in the U.S. and soon after started his store in 2024 with his pastor, who wanted to connect Filipino communities through the business.
Today, they have reached not only Filipinos from different areas, but also customers from other ethnicities. “They really like the vibes and people here,” said Gurdien.
Kabayan, a nearby restaurant, serves mostly regulars, along with a growing number of people from other backgrounds. “We get mostly Filipino customers but also a lot of Spanish because they really like our bulalo–a soup with beef and bone marrow,” said Bea Manuel, a server at Kabayan, her mom and aunt’s restaurant. The restaurant has only been open for three to four years but is already well established in the community.

Diners at Kabayan restaurant in Little Manila (Photo by Sophie Festejo)

“When customers come in, I already know them,” said Manuel, “We know them by name, by face, and they know us by name.”
Little Manila has grown into a tight-knit community. “It really is a small world,” Gurdien said. “If you come and see this guy here, and then you go somewhere else, you’re going to see that guy again.”
Often, customers casually ask for items in Tagalog in convenience stores, and restaurant servers already know their usual orders, as if they were back home in the Philippines. Lani, whose last name was not shared, lives in Maspeth, Queens, and travels often to Little Manila for her groceries and the restaurants.
Most of the businesses are family-owned, and their owners hope to preserve Philippine culture in Little Manila for generations. Ida Castillo, 76, and her husband Emmanuel Castillo, 77, have run Phil-Am Food Mart together, a common spot for Filipino groceries, for 51 years. Mr. Castillo quit studying engineering to run the store and took over the family business. “Hopefully our son will take over when we retire,” said Mrs. Castillo.

Phil-Am Food Mart on Roosevelt Avenue, beside the Little Manila Avenue street sign (Photo by Sophie Festejo)

The store was initially located between 69th and 70th streets and moved to its current location in 1980, when the owner of the building asked whether the Castillos wanted to buy it. “He assumed the mortgage because I said we do not have money yet,” said Mrs. Castillo.
Since then, the couple has built a special store where customers are surrounded by Philippine culture. They offer a variety of authentic products–in fact, the couple estimates that 95 percent are supplied from the Philippines–and homemade prepared foods.
Phil-Am Food Mart also has an all-Filipino staff and maintains a close-knit work environment, as some have worked there for as long as 40 years. “We are like a family,” said Mrs. Castillo.

Shelves stocked with Filipino snacks and ingredients at Phil-Am Food Mart (Photo by Sophie Festejo)

Little Manila is the ideal location for Filipino businesses such as Phil-Am Food Mart, Mr. Castillo said, because “there are many Filipinos in Elmhurst, Jackson Heights.”
Many Filipino locals and business owners travel across regions to come to Little Manila. Gurdien commutes daily from Jersey City, a trip that can reach up to two hours, to run his convenience store. Meanwhile, the Castillos travel from Bayside, Queens. Imelda Cabinlan, a Filipino local, comes once a week for groceries and to eat Filipino food with her loved ones.

This area, alongside the diverse Jackson Heights, is home to many Filipino business establishments and residents, preserving Philippine culture and traditions in New York City.

Filipinos across the tri-state area regularly come to Little Manila when they are feeling homesick. It's not just an area with Filipino establishments, but a deeply tied community where traditions, language, and familiarity come together to preserve Philippine culture. Business owners hope to spread Filipino hospitality and community through their stores on Little Manila Avenue for generations to come.
“Working here really brings me back to the Philippines,” said Gurdien, smiling.

Sophie Festejo is a junior at Summit High School, based in New Jersey, and staff writer for The Verve, Summit High School’s newspaper. She enjoys writing feature articles centered around community, culture, and people’s everyday experiences.

Our First Date

Mona Lisa Yuchengco — Wed, 09 Sep 2026 16:40:22 +0000

(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

I loved him the first time I saw him. I couldn’t believe that God sent me such a beautiful gift. I waited for the right time to be with him. In the meantime, I watched him from afar and near, at different hours of the day, at any place I could see him and be near him.
It took twelve years before he asked me out on a date. Like a love-struck teen, I anxiously waited for the day, going through several scenarios for how I could make our date memorable for him so he would ask me out again.
When we parked the car, he opened my door and held my hand as he led me into the restaurant. Such a gentleman! It was his favorite Japanese restaurant. We ordered so much food that the waitress had to repeat the order to make sure she heard it right. We ate everything.
Our conversations were simple but meaningful. He talked about his family, his friends, his favorite movies, his dreams, and golf. He was not shy at all. I learned so much about him that I didn’t know these past twelve years. I also shared some stories about my childhood. This was our first time to be by ourselves, alone, without the prying eyes of other people. I found myself seeing the world through his eyes.
When the meal ended, my grandson, Xavier, said, “I am paying for this, Nana.”
“Where did you get the money?” I asked.
“It’s my birthday money,” he replied. “I have $160 in my wallet.”
The bill turned out to be a little less than $100. He handed me the $100 bill and said, “Great. I still have $60 left.”
I didn’t know whether to cry or beam with pride. I chose to do the latter.

Xavier , first day of school, as a 7th grader. (Photo courtesy of Mona Lisa Yuchengco)

After lunch we went to my house to watch E.T., the movie, one of my favorites. He had not yet seen it (he wasn’t born yet when the movie was made) and I wanted to re-experience the movie with him. This time, I couldn’t hold back my tears as E.T. said goodbye to Elliot and his family. Xavier and I bonded with an alien who just wanted to go home.
For dinner, I brought him to Le Petit Chef, an immersive culinary show presented in 3D cinema directly on the plate. I brought my husband to this show for his birthday last May, and Xavier heard me talking about it, so he wanted to see it. Xavier was mesmerized by the whole experience. That’s when he told me he wanted to be a content creator when he grew up.
During the dinner break, he escorted me to the restroom, again holding my hand, and waited to bring me back to the restaurant. So thoughtful!
Our special date was nearing its end and I couldn’t help but wonder: will Xavier remember this day as much as I will – every bit of the shared memory – the laughter, the stories, the meals, the photos, the touches and hugs, and how deeply I love him? Children grow up faster than we expect and opportunities to create lasting memories are precious. With my sons and grandchildren, I have learned to build relationships one moment at a time.

It took twelve years before he asked me out on a date. Like a love-struck teen, I anxiously waited for the day.

My first date with my grandson, a full eight hours, is a reminder that love grows strongest when we spend time together. Xavier promised during our date that no matter how old he becomes, he would spend time with me. That’s all I can ask for.
P.S. I received this text from my son, Xavier’s father. “Thank you, Mom. Xavier had a great time. He is telling us all about it now and is so excited.”

My Grandmother’s Love

Phoebe Gwynn Francisco — Wed, 09 Sep 2026 16:40:13 +0000
We all carry stories about our lolas. Some are funny, some are bittersweet, and some become the stories we tell over and over because they remind us of where love first lived.
I grew up without memories of my maternal grandparents. They both died when I was still very young, and I don't have a single memory that I can truly call my own about them.
But my grandparents on my father's side were different. I remember them vividly, especially my lola.
There was a time when my lola became the primary caregiver of my youngest brother because both of my parents were working. My mama was a teacher, while my papa was self-employed as the cook and owner of our little karinderya (food stall).

Our karinderya

Because of that, I spent a lot of time with my lola. Together with her, I also became the designated watcher of my youngest brother. My lola was a really nice person, someone I deeply admired.

An old digital camera photo of me and my younger siblings

She was also the one who taught me how to wash my own clothes. She was the kind of woman who seemed capable of doing every task around the house. As a child, I simply thought that was normal. As an adult, I now realize how much work she carried every day.
Some of my favorite memories are the smallest ones. We would sit outside our house while she patiently searched through my hair for lice, teaching me how to find them with my own hands. Strange as it sounds, it remains one of the most precious memories of my childhood. Love often hides in the ordinary.
During my birthdays, she would secretly hand me money as if she were giving me something illegal. It was such a classic Filipino lola thing to do.
She also had an unmistakable sense of style. I don't remember ever seeing her in a plain T-shirt. She was always dressed in her floral terno (traditional dress) wearing different colors depending on the day, with one of her many decorative comb clips carefully tucked into her hair. As a child, I simply thought she dressed beautifully. Now I realize she carried herself with elegance that needed no special occasion.

My lola (right) wearing her colorful top

When my youngest brother was still in my mother's womb, we stayed for a while at my grandparents' house while Mama was preparing to give birth. Every visit there made us feel deeply loved.
Every time we visited, my lola would immediately tell my lolo to bring out the foam mattress so we could comfortably lie down. It was one of those little things that made us feel loved without her ever saying it.
My parents also made it a point to visit them often. I always thought it was because my papa was my lolo's favorite among all of his children.
Sometimes my lola would stay overnight in our house and sleep in our room. She was a devout Catholic who would always pray the rosary before sleeping, still wearing her floral terno.

My younger sister, and my lola at the back wearing colorful top.

Years later, when I came out, my lola never questioned me. She never made me feel different. She never needed grand speeches to show acceptance.
I never felt judged by her. I felt accepted for the person that I am. Some relatives would always tell me that I resembled her. Now that I think about it, I believe they were right.
Then came the day we lost her. It was during our barangay fiesta.
The house was full of people eating, drinking and celebrating. My papa was busy preparing food for everyone. My lola loved cooking, so she would often go near him just to talk while he worked. Every now and then, she would also check on my lolo, who struggled with alcoholism.
As the night went on, everyone became tired. My lolo had already passed out because he was drunk, while my papa had fallen asleep after all the preparations.
My lola asked one of my cousins for a glass of water, but the water never came. Perhaps everyone else had become caught up in the celebration. Then she called for me.
She told me she was feeling pain in her chest and asked me to call my mother.
Mama and my great-aunt immediately decided to bring her to the hospital. They boarded a jeepney together, hoping they would make it in time.
My lola took her last breath somewhere around the second bridge. She passed away before they reached the hospital.
Not long after, my cousin returned to our house crying, telling us that my lola was gone.
The hardest part was finding the words to tell my lolo when he finally woke up.
That night, I cried until I fell asleep. I remember listening to music while crying. I even woke up my brother, who had also passed out because he was drunk, just to tell him that our lola had died.
The days that followed were filled with sorrow. For the first time in my life, I saw my father cry. My father was never someone who openly showed emotion, but losing his mother broke something inside him. He told me not to cry, perhaps because he wanted to be strong for all of us. But neither of us could stop.

My father, always wearing a hat, with my younger brothers

Looking back now, I realize my lola taught me many things. She taught me that being vulnerable is never something to be ashamed of. I remember how she openly cried during the funeral of her own brother. She taught me that loving deeply also means grieving deeply.
She taught me to be sentimental. She taught me to be kind.

I think that is what Filipino grandmothers leave behind. Even when they have very little, they always find something to give.

I think that is what Filipino grandmothers leave behind. Even when they have very little, they always find something to give. Whether it is food, birthday money secretly slipped into our hands, prayers before bedtime, or simply making sure there is a mattress waiting for us whenever we visit.
To lose your grandmother is to carry a hole that never really closes.
I may not have always expressed my affection and love for my lola while she was still alive. But she never failed to express hers. And for that, I will always be grateful.
I will never forget you, Lola.

Phoebe Gwynn Francisco is a psychometrician and writer based in Lapu-Lapu City, Cebu. Her essays on mental health, early adulthood, and love have appeared in the Philippine Daily Inquirer and other outlets.

Filipino Americans Sound Off on the Toboso Tragedy

James Sobredo — Wed, 02 Sep 2026 19:18:13 +0000

Aldrich Limpin Sabac (left) and Lyle Prijoles (right) during their college years at San Francisco State University, where they both double-majored in Asian American Studies. Prijoles was a talented spoken word poet, and Sabac, to this day, still carries in his phone a recording of Prijoles’s poem (Photo courtesy of Aldrich Limpin Sabac)

In the early morning hours of Wednesday, 19 April 2026, an armed confrontation occurred between the soldiers of the 79th Infantry Battalion of the Philippine Army and the Northern Negros Front of the New People’s Army (NPA) at Sitio Sinugmawan, Barangay Salamanca, Toboso, in the northern region of Negros Occidental. The gun battle, which, according to news reports, started at approximately 4 a.m., was the second encounter that month between the Army and the NPA. It was reported to have lasted 12 hours.
The armed confrontation occurred while the Army was conducting operations in search of NPA members operating in the Toboso area; in particular they were looking to apprehend the area commander of the NPA.

By the end of Wednesday’s armed confrontation, news reports state that 19 people lost their lives, including six civilians: UP Diliman student council leader Alyssa Alano and another UP student Maureen Keil Santuyo, journalist RJ Nicole Ledesma who reported on human rights and local stories from Bacolod, and community researcher Errol Wendel who was conducting research on “sugar plantation workers.”

Also among the six civilian casualties were two Filipino Americans: Lyle Prijoles, a 40-year-old resident from the San Francisco Bay Area and Kai Dana-Rene Sorem, a 26-year-old resident from the Seattle metropolitan area. They were both community activists in their respective Filipino American communities, who felt that it was important to also come to the Philippines and help poor Filipino communities.

Flyer for Kai Sorem (Source: International Coalition for Human Rights in the Philippines/facebook)

One member of the Philippine Army suffered wounds to both arms in the attack and was treated at a Bacolod hospital.
The Army’s official statement is that all 19 casualties were not innocent civilians but were “combatants.” The Army also claimed that the Toboso encounter was a “legitimate military operation.”
In contrast, the NPA stated that the six slain civilians were not NPA members. They do acknowledge that ten of the combatants were members of the NPA, including Roger "Ka Tapang" Fabillar, the local commander of the NPA and the target of the Philippine Army military operation.
The Commission on Human Rights in the Philippines notes that these conflicting reports call for a thorough independent investigation, which they started.
Reactions and Perspectives
It is within this context that I asked the opinions of Filipino Americans in the San Francisco Bay Area and the Seattle metropolitan area.
“The massacre was a horrific travesty,” said Teresita Cataag Bautista, a well-known East Bay, San Francisco Bay Area activist. “What a shameful waste of human lives. The deaths of Lyle Prijoles and Kai Sorem are particularly heinous and shocking to Filipinos in the U.S.”
Bautista, who recently turned 80 years old, is a graduate of UC Berkeley and San Francisco State University (SFSU) and spent her life advocating for social justice and human rights. Like many Filipino Americans who lean left politically, she places responsibility on the Army: “The AFP must be held accountable for the deaths of innocent civilians.”
Adrich Limpin Sabac, a close college friend of Prijoles, also does not believe that Lyle was armed during the Toboso encounter. Sabac is an administrator in the Stockton Unified School District in charge of Ethnic Studies classes, an innovative program advocated for by educational and community leaders. Through these classes, students can learn about the history of Filipinos in America and other ethnic groups.

Adrich Limpin Sabac is an administrator in the Stockton Unified School District in charge of Ethnic Studies classes. Sabac also has an MA from UCLA and is currently in the PhD program at the University of the Pacific. A close friend of Lyle Prijoles, they were both double-majors in Asian American Studies at San Francisco State University (Photo by James Sobredo, Stockton, CA: Marina)

“I didn’t believe it,” Sabac explained when asked about whether Prijoles was armed in the Toboso encounter. “Not at all. He was never that kind of person. I could never see him bearing arms and being an aggressor of any kind. That was not him. He wrote poetry. He did photography, he was a storyteller. Those were his weapons. He was not the kind of person who would take up arms.”

Sabac was glad to see that there was a subsequent investigation by an independent legal group that visited Toboso and interviewed residents in the encounter area. From that investigation and interviews, it is reported that Prijoles and Sorem were unarmed civilians who helped farmers till the land. They came to Toboso, primarily, to learn about the social and economic issues local farmers faced and to assist the farmers.
Fact-Finding
One of those independent fact-finding investigators who went to Toboso was Troy Osaki, a 33-year-old Filipino-Japanese American lawyer from Seattle and a member of the National Lawyers Guild. He traveled to Toboso, Negros, the following month after the fateful day.

Troy Osaki is an award-winning poet of Filipino and Japanese ancestry in Seattle. A lawyer and member of the National Lawyers Guild, he traveled as part of a 100-member independent fact-finding mission to Toboso, one month after the tragedy. He met Lyle Prijoles in the Philippines in 2017 at a community emersion program and they have been friends and colleagues ever since. Osaki wrote about his fact-finding mission in Seattle’s International Examiner (Photo courtesy of Troy Osaki).

Osaki knew both Lyle Prijoles and Kai Sorem. In a detailed article published in the Seattle International Examiner, Osaki recalled in our interview boarding a plane for the Philippines as part of 100-member fact-finding mission that went to Toboso, Negros, to conduct an independent investigation on the events of 19 April.
Osaki was born in Seattle to Filipino and Japanese parents. He earned an ethnic studies BA degree from the University of Washington and went on to finish a JD from Seattle University.
Osaki is a great-grandson of a Buddhist minister whose family immigrated to Hawaii from Japan as plantation workers in the late-1800s. On his Filipino side, his Filipino grandfather left Bataan and immigrated to America at age 18.
His Japanese American family was incarcerated in World War II due to Executive Order 9066. The Japanese community in America (70% of whom were born in America) were seen by the U.S. government as a possible threat to American security, were consequently rounded by police and federal troops, and sent to internment camps. It was from this trauma that caused Osaki to study law and advocate for immigration rights and poor people’s rights.
In his article, Osaki remembered meeting Kai at a community meeting. He remembered she had a “bright tattoo of saxophone keys on her left forearm.” Then she led and conducted community members in singing Bigas Hindi Bala (Rice Not Bullets), a song she just learned in Cebu in her previous visit. Kai graduated with a music degree from Central Washington University.
Music, art and poetry were constant themes used to describe the two Filipino American who lost their lives in Toboso.
Many of the Filipino Americans interviewed for this article noted that Prijoles was a talented poet and a spoken word artist. Osaki is also an award-winning poet, spoken word artist and a critically acclaimed poet.
Immersion Program

They first met in the Philippines in 2017 as part of a community immersion program. Prijoles was the team leader for that program. Osaki was integrated into a peasant farmer community in Tarlac, “That trip was really formative for me.”
Osaki went to the Philippines to “understand why Filipinos leave in the first place and then had to face harsh conditions here in America.”
Osaki explained in our interview, “The experience of Filipinos here in the States is connected back to the home country and why we (sic.) had to leave the Philippines in the first place. I went back to learn what those problems were, just like Lyle.”
Like Prijoles, Sorem, and Osaki, Sabac is also a community activist who dedicated his life serving the Filipino American community. He a was born in Stockton, California, a working-class farming community that was the first and largest Filipino American community in America.
Sabac met Lyle Prijoles when they were students at SFSU, where they double majored in Asian American Studies. Sabac remembered Lyle as a very intelligent “nerd,” a talented poet and photographer. To this day, Sabac carries in his phone a professional quality recording of Prijoles’ “Nerd Poem,” a poem about his teenage years and being unpopular with women.
“He was such a funny guy.” Sabac said, with a smile and glint of joy in his eye. “Lyle was a nerd in every sense of the word. He was into Star Wars, and he was a big reader. He cared very deeply about people, especially impoverished people in the Philippines.”
‘Not Naïve’
The Filipino Americans interviewed who knew Prijoles reject the idea that he was naïve and easily persuaded and was brainwashed to join an armed movement.
“I find that extremely offensive,” Sabac said, who is the same age as Prijoles. Sabac has an MA from UCLA and is currently working on his PhD at the University of the Pacific.
After pausing, Sabac continued, “Lyle is one of the brightest, sharpest, critical people I know, who could have used his talents and gifts to be in whatever industry and make profit. Instead, he chose to live a life in service to community and serve people who are experiencing the most extreme form of poverty.”
Professor Eugene Gambol, who is department co-chair of Ethnic Studies at Delta College in Stockton, noted that, as an undergraduate, Prijoles was intellectually far more advanced for his years.

Professor Eugene Gambol is the department co-chair of Ethnic Studies at Delta College in Stockton, the first and largest Filipino American community in the mainland United States in the 1920s to the 1960s. He met Lyle Prijoles in Sacramento in 2003 at an event organized by Professor Consorcia Apostol-Rocamora, a very well-known Tagalog instructor at Sacramento City College. A few years later, when Gambol was an MA student at SFSU, he was surprised that the teaching assistant for the Filipino American class was Priojoles, who was an undergraduate at that time (Photo by James Sobredo, Delta College, Stockton, CA, November 2023).

Gambol first met Prijoles in 2003 in Sacramento at an event organized by Professor Consorcia Apostol-Rocamora, a very well-known Tagalog instructor at Sacramento City College.
Later at graduate school in San Francisco State University, Gambol was surprised that Prijoles, who was an undergraduate, was a teaching assistant for a Filipino American Studies class, which was taught by Professor Daniel Phil Gonzales, a well-known Filipino American professor and part of The Third World Liberation Front in SFSU that went on strike and gave birth to Ethnic Studies classes in America.
“I was the graduate student. He was the smart undergrad!” Gambol recalled fondly.

‘Not Duped’
Thus, Professor Gambol also rejects the idea that Prijoles was duped into joining the armed movement. After a long and pause, Gambol explained, “That’s a narrative that often is used to describe human rights workers. They don’t think for themselves or that they are brainwashed… They get red-tagged. Or they say they are communists.”

Gambol concludes by saying, “I believe he was there for human rights advocacy work. That is why he was there.”

Osaki, who was in Toboso as part of fact-finding investigative mission, holds very strong views about Prijoles and Sorem and the type of work they were doing: “I was able to visit the community that Lyle and Kai were in… What people were saying was they knew both Kai and Lyle. And every time they saw them, they were trying to help. They were trying to participate in any kind of farming. Or they were trying to learn about the problems the community was facing. And no one reported seeing them with any kind of firearms or holding any guns.”
Memory and Legacy
Professor Gambol will always remember Prijoles’s demeanor, which is “how to relate to people on a humanistic level.” Gambol explained, “He knew the pulse of what the youth were suffering here in the Bay Area and in the Philippines. He gave voice to the next generation.”
Ironically, Gambol sees Prijoles’s life as a continuation of Rizal revolutionary views and the fight for justice. [8:00]
But it will be the memories of Lyle Prijoles the person that will remain in Gambol’s mind.

Among the six civilian casualties were two Filipino Americans: Lyle Prijoles, from the San Francisco Bay Area and Kai Dana-Rene Sorem, from the Seattle metropolitan area.

“Everyone is going to say he is a nerd and that he’s smart,” Gambol laughs, as memories of Prijoles come mind. “He was a goofy intellectual, but behind all that he had the heart and passion to connect to people.”
Sabac also remembers the precious funny moments he had with Prijoles. Sabac is an introvert while Prijoles had so many friends and enjoyed socializing: “I will never forget that when I did not feel like going out, he would just show up and say, “I’m here!” He just ignored me attempting to be introverted. He was a friend you could always count on.”
When he was an MA student at UCLA, Sabac remembers their last dinner in Los Angeles, “Lyle just called and said, ‘I’m going to be there in 5 minutes!’ … I will never forget him, and I will never stop telling his story.
Osaki spent a large part of his life working with Prijoles. He explained that Prijoles was best friends with Brandon Lee, a Chinese American journalist from SFSU who took Filipino American classes and fell in love with the Philippines and its people. Lee ended up being shot for his advocacy work in Ifugao Province and became paralyzed from the waist down. Because of his friendship with Lee, Prijoles knew the reality and risks of doing human rights work in the Philippines.
Despite this, Prijoles wanted to be in the Philippines long term and to continue working with helping poor communities.
Osaki recalled what Prijoles’s sister said, “Whatever Lyle ended up doing, he would have always ended up back in the Philippines because that is where his heart is at.”
The Filipino Americans interviewed who knew Lyle Prijoles and Kai Sorem personally are still grieving and are doing the best they can to cope with their loss. They hope that a policy solution can be found so that this tragedy will not happen again. For now, however, they hold on to the precious memories of their friendship and times together. (Reference sources available upon request.)

James Sobredo, PhD, is professor emeritus of Ethnic Studies at Sacramento State University. He splits his time living in the San Francisco Bay Area and Manila.

More articles from James Sobredo

With Feathers on Her Cap

Anthony Maddela — Wed, 02 Sep 2026 19:18:07 +0000

Romero with a Florida Scrub-Jay in the field (Archbold Biological Station, Florida. All birds handled with the proper permits (2022) Photo courtesy of Faye Romero)

A few thousand Florida Scrub Jays inhabit less than 50 square kilometers of Southeast Florida. The plight of this acorn eater on a diminishing swath of Florida oak scrub parallels the struggles of many bird species that are endemic to isolated islands of the Philippines. Lessons learned from efforts to save the Florida Scrub Jay could help arrest the decline of critically endangered species like the Palawan Cockatoo.
The Palawan Cockatoo and the Florida Scrub Jay are among the roughly 48,600 species on the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) Red List of Threatened Species. Their populations dwindle as habitat becomes the ground under housing developments, orchards, and other human pursuits.
Flocks of non-migratory birds like Florida Scrub Jays don’t seek new territories. Jays are social creatures, but their declining territories allow fewer social exchanges between neighboring flocks. As opportunities to refresh the gene pool collapse, inbreeding turns from a preventable risk into an inevitable reality.

Florida Scrub-Jays at Archbold Biological Station. You can see the colored bands around their legs, which helps us identify each bird individually (Photo by Reed Bowman)

Chronic Decline
“That is a chronic problem in species that are declining on the wild,” states Faye Romero, doctoral candidate in Evolution, Ecology, Genetics and Genomics at University of Rochester in New York. “As populations get smaller and are confined to an area, then they’re going to interact with each other.”
“Some commonly overlooked effects of about inbreeding start with reduced hatching success, lower birth weights of nestlings, and a smaller total number of offspring that each bird ends up having. In our field,” says Romero, “we call it the Extinction Vortex when individual animals show these negative consequences. It just keeps snowballing until they’re gone.”
Though her dissertation project involves birds in the wild, Romero performs all her computational work indoors. “I do genetics work at a computer.” She elaborates, “The way I describe it to folks is that I’m basically 23 and Me and Ancestry.com for wild populations of animals. A central goal of conservation genetics is to develop models, techniques and tools to diagnose the health of a population.”
Genetics research can deliver accurate predictions of whether a species will flourish or languish. “We can look at the genetics of a species and see whether it’s in trouble. They may seem to be doing okay numbers wise today, but the genetics are telling us that maybe in fifteen, twenty years, they might be doing worse,” Romero exclaims.
Ray of Hope

Field work (All birds handled with the proper permits (2022) Photo courtesy of Faye Romero)

Romero offers a ray of hope. “While we’re seeing their numbers continue to go down, I’m not pessimistic about the Florida Scrub Jay because we have lots of good scientists thinking about them.” People are naturally motivated to protect these birds that pack a high charm quotient. “They’re very charismatic and unique, and they’re one in only a handful of birds that are endemic to the U.S.”
Florida Scrub Jay are cousins of the American Crow in the Corvidae family. Like crows, these intelligent passerines or perching birds have sophisticated family structures. “They’re able to reproduce at one year old, but they are cooperative breeders. When they first reach maturity, they hang around the territory of their parents. They may do this for one or two years so their parents can raise successive generations.”
She will finish her PhD in a year. Her insights add to over 40 years of research by a long line of friends of the Florida Scrub Jay. Genomic work with this affable species will not end when Dr. Romero leaves Rochester, but hope abounds that her research will keep inspiring the public to take initiative in protecting bird habitat. Adults and youth have embarked on citizen science projects that complement Romero’s genomic work and may lead to solutions we cannot yet imagine.
From Nature Lover to Birder to Scientist
Romero earned a B.S. in Molecular Environmental Biology from University of California at Berkeley before moving to Rochester, NY for graduate school. Asked her age, she answers, “late 20s.” She and younger sibling George were born to Art and Gena Romero after the couple immigrated from Batangas to Houston. Her husband, Nate, is an engineer she met while indulging in swing dancing, her No. 1 non-scientific passion.
She developed an interest in wildlife in middle school when her family left Houston to live beachside in Perth, Australia. While her life list spans 480 bird species, her interest in nature started as a generalist.
“I was generally interested in the outdoors and nature. Because all the birds in Australia are so unique and different, it’s kind of ironic that I only got into studying birds as an undergrad at UC Berkeley.”
A preternatural curiosity about birds led to hikes with birdwatching groups, banding at Braddock Bay Bird Observatory in Ontario, Canada, a visit to Costa Rica and its over 930 species of birds including her favorite, the Resplendent Quetzel, and a nonstop vigil of alerts on her phone’s eBird app of sightings of the rare Kirtland’s Warbler.
A lifer bird is a rare species that a birder expects to see only once in her lifetime. In May 2024 while on a family visit to the Palawan Islands, Romero saw two lifer birds. “The coolest thing I ever saw was either the Palawan Hornbill or the Stork-billed Kingfisher,” she gushes. “They are these amazingly unique birds.”
While she cannot name a “spark bird” that ignited her fascination with birds, the signature study where the former Berkeley undergraduate made her earliest mark in wildlife science involved hummingbirds—the world’s tiniest birds.
A Pioneering Hummingbird Study

A single male Anna’s Hummingbird museum specimen from a side-on perspective. This particular specimen was collected in October 2006 from the UC Berkeley campus in Berkeley, California (see the metadata on the specimen tag!). This specimen is from UC Berkeley's Museum of Vertebrate Zoology.

In 2019, Berkeley graduate student Nicholas Alexander embarked on his landmark study to examine whether the beaks of Anna’s Hummingbirds changed after 1940 when residents of Southern California and Baja California began hanging birdfeeders, which offered sugar dissolved in water as a new food source other than the plant nectar hummingbirds consumed in nature.
Around the beginning of his research, Alexander added Romero to his team. “He happened to be a teaching assistant in a biology course I was in. He noticed that I was passionate about the class and that I liked to participate,” remembers Romero. “He told me I have this question you can help me answer by using museum specimens.” She was more than just intrigued.
Alexander posited that by comparing the beaks of Anna’s Hummingbird specimens (known as study skins) from mid-1800s to1940 with those that lived after that year, they would observe structural (taxonomical) changes to more easily access the tiny holes of backyard hummingbird feeders.
While assisting Alexander in comparing pre-1940 study skins with post-1940 ones, she observed distinct differences in bill taxonomy. These adaptations became commonplace among Anna’s Hummingbirds. “We still see birds that lived in higher density of feeders had bills that are longer and more tapered than those that didn’t.”

Thermal image of a perched Anna’s Hummingbird. This shows the bird releasing heat through its bill while perched (note the Celsius temperature scale on the right-hand side… the warmer the color, the hotter the temperature). This image is from Don Powers’ lab at George Fox University.

Natural Selection
Filipino Darwinists will note similarities between the Alexander study and the natural selection theory of their hero. Charles Darwin made comparisons of the beaks of a single species of finch that branched out into four distinct species over the course of two million years after its migration from South America to isolated islands of the Galapagos.

A simple schematic displaying one of the results from our hummingbird study (Alexandre, Romero, & Simon et al. 2025, Global Change Biology). We found that Anna’s Hummingbird bills were thinner and more tapered in locations with more artificial feeders.

It is myopic to dismiss Alexander and Romero’s work as a modern replication of 19th century findings. Their accomplishment has nothing to do with an existing body of knowledge but advances the new field of Urban Evolution, which focuses on survival of species under human-imposed stress.
Romero would love to conduct similar studies in the Philippines. “With seven thousand plus islands, the Philippines must be one of the top countries with the most endemic species on Earth,” she declares. “There are amazing opportunities for scientists to learn about evolution and conservation.”
And Romero has good news if you worry that your neighborhood hummingbirds are suffering from a steady diet of nutrition-free sugar water from your feeder. “I like to remind people that regardless of how frequently hummingbirds visit a bird feeder, a majority of their diet is still flower nectar.” She adds, “There are studies that show that if given an abundance of flowers or a feeder, the hummingbird will go for the flowers.”

Lessons learned from efforts to save the Florida Scrub Jay could help arrest the decline of critically endangered species like the Palawan Cockatoo.

Faye Romero has coding talent and patience to decipher genome sequences longer than a small intestine (which is four times longer than your large intestine). And she swing dances! As to whether evolution endowed her with the one talent that unites Filipinos everywhere, she proclaims, “Yes, I like to sing.”
When she’s handed the karaoke mic, “You know who I’m obsessed with right now? Olivia Rodrigo. Her music is great and she has great karaoke songs that are fun to sing. Driver’s License is a classic.”

Anthony Maddela is a staff correspondent of Positively Filipino and a member of the Board of Santa Monica Bay Audubon Society.

More articles from Anthony Maddela

The Manong Who Never Loses

John Rey — Wed, 02 Sep 2026 19:17:17 +0000

FilipinoDama.com

Every Filipino plaza has one. In Romblon, Romblon, ours held court on a wooden bench outside the barbershop: a square of plywood balanced across his knees, its grid drawn with a ball pen that had long gone dry, then traced over again with a carpenter’s pencil. The pieces were tansan—bottle caps—with “Coke” facing up for one side and “Royal” facing down for the other. He was the manong who never loses, and every town has him, the way every town has a church bell.
I learned the game from my neighbors and cousins when I was seven, maybe eight. The first thing you learn about dama (native checkers) is not how to make a move. It’s that the game punishes politeness. In Filipino dama, captures are not optional. If a jump is on the board, you must take it — and not just any jump, but the longest one available, the line that eats the most pieces. Hesitate, play the safe move instead, and the manong will reach across the board, make your capture for you, and shake his head like you had tried to pay for gasoline with prayer.
That rule — mandatory capture, maximum capture — is where all the arguments come from, and the arguments are half the game.
Is a line of three men worth more than a line of two if one of the two is a dama? Someone's uncle insists the count is in pieces; someone else swears his own uncle, a jeepney dispatcher of great integrity, counted quality over quantity.
Voices rise. Bystanders are consulted. A tricycle driver who has not played in years delivers a ruling like a Supreme Court justice. Then the caps go back on the board and the game continues. The rules of dama were never written anywhere. They lived in the manongs, passed down by argument, the way a dialect survives by being spoken.
Old Game

The traditional Dama game (Source: Memories of Old Manila Facebook/Beatriz Manansala)

The game itself is older than any of us knew. Dama descended from the Spanish damas, brought over in the colonial era, and when the American anthropologist Stewart Culin surveyed Philippine games in 1900, a form of dama was already there among them — played then on boards of drawn lines and intersections.
Over a century it shifted, the way spoken things do: onto the 8x8 checkered board, onto plywood and bottle caps, into the plazas and barberias. Filipino dama grew its own distinct body of rules — men that capture backward as well as forward, the crowned piece becoming a "flying" dama that slides the whole diagonal like a bishop with a grudge. It became ours. And still, nobody wrote it down.
My own dama years came in two waves, and the first is still vivid to me: a knot of cousins and neighborhood kids crowded around one board, winner-stays, everyone else loudly coaching whoever was losing. That was how the rules reached me — not from a book but from children barely older than I was, who had them from children barely older than them.
The second wave came in high school, when the games had already thinned to occasional ones, a match here and there when a board turned up. And then, they went quiet altogether. Nobody decided to stop playing. I did not even notice at the time that anything was being lost.
Undocumented
Undocumented games do not die loudly. There is no funeral for a board game. The bench empties one player at a time, the kids drift a few meters away into their phones, and one day the plywood board is just gone — used to patch a fence, maybe. When a manong dies, his openings die with him, his traps, his rulings on the quality-versus-quantity question. What is lost is not entertainment. It is a whole afternoon culture: the teasing in Tagalog, the lessons about patience and consequence, the etiquette of losing to your elders until the day, unthinkable and inevitable, when you finally beat them.
So I decided to write it down. All of it. I documented the Filipino rules move by move, in English and in Tagalog, and then I went one step further and rebuilt the game itself as a free browser game at FilipinoDama.com — no downloads, nothing to buy — so that it runs on the same phones that pulled the kids off the bench in the first place.
There was a certain justice in that, I felt. Building it forced a strange reckoning: a computer cannot shout, so every argument the plaza settled by volume, I had to settle by decision. Encoding the rules taught me that the arguments were never a flaw in the game. They were the way the game was remembered.
Across Distances
What I keep thinking about now is distance. There are millions of us scattered from Daly City to Dubai to Doha, and a plywood board does not travel — but a link does. A kid in California can now play the exact game her lolo played outside a barbershop in Romblon, flying dama and all, and when she visits home she will not need anyone to go easy on her.

The writer decided to write down all the unwritten rules of the Filipino board game dama, move by move, in English and in Tagalog, and rebuilt the native checkers as a free browser game at FilipinoDama.com.

The browser version was never meant to replace the bench. It is a bridge back to it. The real dream is smaller and more stubborn: that somewhere, a father who half-remembers the rules looks them up, draws a grid on a pizza box, raids the refrigerator for bottle caps, and sits down across from his daughter.
The manong who never loses is not really a person, I have come to think. He is an office, like barangay captain’s — vacated and filled, generation after generation, for as long as there is a board and someone willing to be beaten at it until they learn.
Someday, if I am lucky and stubborn enough, the office will fall to me: some plaza, some bench, some kid across the board hesitating over a capture. I already know what I will do. I will reach over, make the move for them, and shake my head — because that is how the game is taught, and the game, salamat sa Diyos, is still being taught.

John Rey grew up in Romblon, Romblon, an island province in the central Philippines, and is the builder of FilipinoDama.com, a free browser version of Filipino dama with illustrated rules in English and Tagalog. He built the site so that the game his cousins and neighbors taught him would stay within reach of the next generation, wherever in the world it grows up.

Growing Up Tough in Sta. Ana, Manila

Ben Gaetos — Wed, 02 Sep 2026 19:17:07 +0000
"Mabuhay, Welcome Home,” read the sign at Ninoy Aquino International Airport. It is always an uplifting feeling to be back in your homeland.
I was born the youngest of nine children. Two siblings came before me, but they passed away before my birth. Mom later adopted two of her younger brother’s children.

My parents: Alejandro and Florentina Gaetos (Photo courtesy of Ben Gaetos)

Both my parents were from the province of La Union. I was born and raised in Sta. Ana, Manila. Dad was a delivery driver for Dangwa Tranco, which operated from Manila to Baguio City and the mountain provinces. He picked up and delivered transited packages from the bus terminal.
My mom was a housewife and seamstress. She made dresses and wedding gowns. Her claim to fame was making dresses for the famous actress—and across‑the‑street neighbor—Miss Rita Gomez in the ’60s.
As I looked out from the roof deck of our house, I began to ponder my childhood memories. Most of the houses have been rebuilt into multilevel structures, including ours. Distant high‑rise condominiums can now be seen from our deck. Holy Family Chapel remains and is undergoing renovations.
Our family had limited resources. We did not own a television set or luxury items. On Friday nights, I watched Combat and Saturday morning cartoons through a neighbor’s window. It took years before we owned a television. My eldest sister, Tessa, shipped one from the U.S. She was a nurse anesthetist in Canada and the U.S. All my brothers and sisters went to public schools. I was fortunate to study at Paco Catholic School.

My sixth-grade graduation at Paco Catholic School (Photo courtesy of Ben Gaetos)

Our street has grown more densely populated, resulting in heavier traffic and increased noise. Hearing karaoke late at night has become commonplace.
In the past, our street transformed into a playground with traditional Philippine games such as tumbang preso (players knock down a tin can with one of their slippers and avoid being tagged by the “it” person); patintero (a team tries to cross lines drawn on the ground or pavement and avoid being tagged by the opposing team); and taguan (hide-and-seek).
I also played other street games such as piko (hopscotch), sipa (“kick”), jolens (marbles), teks/pitik (snapping cards or rubber bands with fingers), giyerahan (war games using wood rattler guns or sticks), trumpo (spinning top), and even invented our own, such as boat racing on street gutters. My late eldest brother, Guillermo, made me a wooden scooter so I could race with the other kids.
To earn a little money, I recycled newspapers and glass bottles. I secretly tried peddling rice cakes and egg rolls. That was short‑lived because my mother disapproved. I really enjoyed calling out “bi‑bing‑ka,” “u‑beh,” or “lum‑piaa” while ringing a bell in the looban (interior alley). I earned two pesos per tray sold in the late ’60s to buy myself toys. Mom eventually decided to make and sell ice candy at home.
My dream of becoming a runner developed from watching track and field. I would race my friends for about two blocks. However, running drew little interest, as basketball—then and now—remains the premier sport. Every open space had a basketball court. Our house was also next to a billiard parlor. I learned how to hustle money on the wooden pool table. In addition, my dad and brother Guillermo always took me to the racetrack. I knew horseracing at an early age. If I did not take an afternoon nap or was playing outside, my older brother, Alex, took me to the movies. My other brother, Sen, and sisters Lydia and Remedios looked after me every time. True, I had fun, but I never neglected my studies. There were no electronic gadgets, cell phones, or computers then. Learning to take care of myself, I stood my ground against bullying kids.
During summer, Mom and I visited Apong Iling (Grandma Aquilina) in San Gabriel, La Union. Mom and her siblings owned a small farmland. Before sunset, I would pick up the carabao from the field and take it to the nearby waterfall. My cousin Rene and I also checked his quail traps. We walked a little farther to the now‑popular Tangadan Falls. Apong loved me so much. One time, she asked my Uncle Felipe to slaughter one of the hogs just for me. She passed away at 100 years old.

This is what our street in Sta. Ana looks like at night now (Photo courtesy of Ben Gaetos)

One of my childhood best friends and sidekicks was Ramon, aka “Pi‑pe.” He was deaf and about my age. Somehow, we communicated with improvised sign language. He waited for me when I got off from school and carried my bag. He also assisted me in scrubbing our wooden floor and accompanied me when I did errands. His family later moved away.

Only a handful of my childhood friends still live in the neighborhood. Some achieved success while others did not.

My dad succumbed to heart failure when I was in junior high school. My mother opened a clothing store at Sta. Ana Public Market. I opened and closed the store on school days off. I was starstruck when the superstar actress Amalia Fuentes bought a blouse from me. Mom arrived at the store after morning Masses or after shopping for merchandise. Before going home in the morning, I would buy palabok noodles at the market. We sold our store when we immigrated to the United States. Whenever I visit Manila, I order palabok from the same place.

I still visit the same palabok joint from my childhood (Photo courtesy of Ben Gaetos)

Only a handful of my childhood friends still live in the neighborhood. Some achieved success while others did not. I remain in contact with my close friends and classmates. The street kid in me helped me manage demanding situations later in life. It made me tough as a brick. Times change, but the memory remains.
The author extends gratitude to Dexjordi Lyle Sison for his assistance with the photos.

Ben Gaetos traded blueprints for finish lines. A proud University of Santo Tomas architecture graduate and former project‑managing architect for Los Angeles Recreation and Parks, he surprised even himself by outrunning his own dreams. He became the first Filipino to conquer the notorious Badwater 135 — Death Valley’s blistering, soul‑melting ultramarathon. And because epic feats deserve epic storytelling, he penned two books about the journey: I Dreamed, I Ran, I Conquered and Dream, Great Things Are Coming Again.

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Finding the Philippines and Its Economic Future Far from Home

Cesar Polvorosa Jr. — Wed, 26 Aug 2026 17:39:49 +0000

Oscar San Pedro (right) and Mark Harder run the gasoline station at Lake Louise, Alberta, Canada. (Photo by Mona Lisa Yuchengco)

The last places I expected to encounter the Philippines were in a farmer’s market in a Canadian Atlantic coast city and along the rugged coastline of Nova Scotia.
My family and I had traveled to Peggy's Cove, one of Canada's most iconic destinations, famous for its lighthouse perched on granite rocks overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. Yet even in this windswept remote corner of the country, there were reminders of a familiar presence. Filipinos were there. It turned out to be just a preview.
The following day, we visited Hall's Harbour along the Bay of Fundy in western Nova Scotia, known for having some of the world's highest tides. At the lobster restaurant overlooking the harbor, I noticed and spoke with Filipino staff. After a long drive over meandering roads through picturesque farms and woodlands who do we find at the journey’s end? Filipinos.
On our final day in Halifax, we stumbled upon the Farmers' Market. What surprised me most was discovering three Filipino food stalls. Above the noon time din of a crowded market, we spoke with one owner in Tagalog. She was so glad to have Filipino customers she gave us one free order of bihon (rice noodles)

Farmer's Market in Halifax, Nova Scotia with Filipino owned food stall (photo credit to author)

They had become part of the broader community, introducing Philippine flavors and entrepreneurship to Canadian customers.
Three encounters in as many days.
A lobster restaurant. A farmers' market. A tourist destination.
They seemed like ordinary observations from a family trip. Yet they were reminders that Filipinos have become woven into the economic and social fabric of societies around the world.
The Filipino diaspora is no longer simply a story of migration. It is a story about global economic and cultural participation. And increasingly, it is a story about the future of the Philippine economy.
The Invisible Visible Minority
Years ago, in a chapter I wrote on Filipino entrepreneurship for a University of Toronto Press volume on “Filipinos in Canada,” I described Filipinos as the "Invisible Visible Minority." I used it again in my short story, Moving Furniture published in the Akdaan Anthology.
The phrase captured a fascinating paradox.
Filipinos are among the fastest-growing immigrant communities in Canada and one of the world's largest diasporas. They are present in hospitals, universities, corporations, restaurants, small businesses, and public institutions. Yet despite their numbers and contributions, they often remain less visible in national conversations about immigration, entrepreneurship, the cultural discourse, and economic and political influence.
They are visible everywhere and yet frequently, overlooked and never demanding attention.
This paradox is not unique to Canada. It can be observed in communities across the world.
During my graduate studies in Japan, I encountered Filipinos in many different settings. I even spent one New Year’s Day at the Tokyo apartment of a UP professor. At the Smithsonian in Washington D.C. my wife and I were pleasantly surprised when the staff giving the tickets greeted us in Tagalog as she overheard us conversing. We had a short but animated chat.
A few years ago, while traveling in Europe, my family and I encountered Filipino workers in another global environment—the tourism industry. On a cruise ship sailing through the shimmering Mediterranean Sea, Filipino crew members were quite cheerful to see us Filipino Canadians. In a trademark of Filipino hospitality some of them came by and brought a bottle of champagne to the cabin of our sons.
These experiences reinforced a simple observation:
Wherever globalization creates opportunities, Filipinos are often present. They not only worked in industries traditionally associated with overseas employment, but many others were professionals, caregivers, educators and entrepreneurs. But their importance goes beyond their ability to adapt.
Their presence represents a global network of skills, relationships, and trust.

View of Hall's Harbour from the Lobster Restaurant at the Bay of Fundy. Note the difference in the tide levels. At low tide the boats are literally stuck in the mud (Photo credit to author)

From Remittances to Filipino Diasporic Capital
For decades, the economic contribution of overseas Filipinos has been measured primarily through one indicator: remittances.
And rightly so.
The Filipino diaspora counts more than 13 million Filipinos which is one of the largest communities in the world. Their financial contributions have become a pillar of the Philippine economy. Annual remittances exceeding US$40 billion have helped support millions of Filipino families, strengthened household consumption, financed education and healthcare, and provided a stable source of foreign exchange.
Overseas Filipino Workers (OFWs) have rightly been called modern-day heroes of the republic.
Their sacrifices have transformed lives by lifting families out of poverty and some were able to send their children to western schools. One of my Filipino students in the Canadian university I teach was financed by her mother working in Dubai. An excellent student, she is an exemplar of the next generation of the diaspora.
But the story cannot end there. Remittances represent only the most visible contribution of the diaspora.
They do not fully capture the knowledge, expertise, networks, and opportunities created by Filipinos living abroad.
This article develops the concept of Filipino Diasporic Capital to describe the combined human, knowledge, entrepreneurial, social, financial, and reputational resources embodied in the global Filipino diaspora and their potential contribution to Philippine development.
These contributions may never appear in official remittance statistics. Yet they represent economic value.
Human Networks Behind Globalization
Globalization is often discussed in terms of trade agreements, multinational corporations, supply chains, and financial markets. But globalization is also a human phenomenon because behind every international connection is a person.
Every Filipino abroad represents a potential bridge between the Philippines and another economy. Markets can connect buyers and sellers. But the matrix of relationships creates confidence and long-term beneficial economic and social ties based on trust. Diaspora communities possess precisely this advantage.
Immigrants situated between two worlds understand both their country of origin and their adopted societies. They possess cultural knowledge, personal networks, and familiarity with international standards. They can reduce the uncertainties and disadvantages that often dissuade firms from entering new markets.
Countries that have successfully leveraged their diasporas demonstrate the potential of this approach to transnational business.
India's global technology community helped strengthen connections between Silicon Valley and Indian innovation centers.
Taiwan benefited from overseas engineers and entrepreneurs who established knowledge networks particularly based on electronics linking global expertise with domestic industries.
Israel has long recognized the strategic importance of its worldwide Jewish diaspora in supporting innovation and investment.
The Philippines possesses a similar opportunity. Its diaspora may be one of the country's greatest strategic assets in the twenty-first century.

The iconic lighthouse at Peggy's Cove in Nova Scotia (Photo credit to author)

A World That Continues to Connect
Some observers argue that globalization is sputtering into a period of terminal decline.
The past decade has certainly challenged the assumptions of an increasingly borderless world. Trade tensions, geopolitical rivalries, and supply chain disruptions have encouraged countries to reconsider their dependence on global markets. It often feels that the world is at the precipice of a major upheaval. But history suggests a more complex and deeply layered picture.
For millennia, human communities evolved from tribes into larger political and economic systems. Villages became cities. Cities became kingdoms. Kingdoms became nation-states. Societies became connected through global trade, technology, and migration. This process was never smooth or linear. History does not proceed in a mechanistic fashion.
Wars, pandemics, political conflicts, and economic crises repeatedly disrupted periods of integration. We may be at a disruptive moment in history, yet the long-term trajectory has been unmistakable: societies evolved to expand their networks of exchange and cooperation.
The current period of geopolitical uncertainty may therefore signal another calibration that may linger for years rather than herald the demise of globalization.
Technology alone makes a return to complete isolation impossible. The advent of low-cost airlines, digital communication, global supply chains, international education, and professional networks continue to connect people across borders.
Wide scale immigration over the past several decades have created robust communities and vast and enduring people-to-people connections and interconnected diasporas.
In such a world, countries with vibrant global communities possess an advantage.
The Philippines already has one of the world's most extensive networks of citizens and descendants living abroad. The question is whether the country can fully recognize and mobilize that advantage.

Picturesque Peggy's Cove in Nova Scotia (Photo credit to author)

An Underappreciated Strategic Advantage
The challenge for the Philippines is therefore mobilizing the full range of resources already embedded in its global community — including the skills, networks, entrepreneurial capacity, and international experience of Filipinos abroad.
Countries compete through multiple forms of advantage: abundant natural resources, advanced technology, and manufacturing capacity.
The Philippines possesses something distinctive: a globally distributed population embedded in the world's major economies.
A more ambitious and visionary goal is to transcend the development stage of exporting workers to building global partnerships.
The same Filipino nurse who provides essential healthcare services in Canada can also help strengthen healthcare innovation in the Philippines.
The same Filipino engineer who works in an international company can also connect Philippine firms to new opportunities.
The same Filipino entrepreneur who succeeds abroad can become a bridge for investment and knowledge transfer.
Remittances should only be the tip of the iceberg of the diaspora. This likewise addresses the criticism of a country sending its most productive citizens to work abroad resulting to brain drain— a valid but limiting analysis.
The recognition of overseas Filipinos as heroes of the republic remains deeply deserved. The next chapter of the diaspora story however requires a broader, deeper understanding and imagining and for Philippine institutional policies to encourage diaspora investment, research, educational and business partnerships. This is the evolution from remittance dependence and its transformation to diasporic capital.
Universities can build stronger academic networks with Filipino scholars abroad. Startups can connect with Filipino professionals overseas. Businesses can develop international partnerships through diaspora communities.
Government agencies can move beyond facilitating labor mobility toward facilitating knowledge mobility. Good governance is therefore key.
The goal is to ensure that Filipinos anywhere in the world can enhance their roles in national development.
A Global Filipino Identity
Perhaps one of the clearest expressions of this global Filipino identity can be seen through figures who unite Filipinos across borders.
In recent years, few individuals have captured this spirit more than tennis player Alex Eala.
When I wrote about her journey in Positively Filipino (May 27, 2026) I was struck not only by her achievements on the international tennis stage but also by the emotional connection she created among Filipinos worldwide.
Her victories were celebrated by Filipinos worldwide. For a diaspora spread across continents, she became a reminder of shared identity.
Alex Eala's significance extends beyond tennis. She represents a generation of Filipinos who compete confidently on the global stage while maintaining a strong connection to their roots.
Her story reflects the larger story of the Filipino diaspora itself. The Philippines is no longer a country whose influence is limited by its physical borders. Sports, like culture and entrepreneurship, can become a bridge connecting communities separated by geographies.

Every Filipino abroad represents a potential bridge between the Philippines and another economy.

Recognizing the Value We Already Possess
Returning to my experience in Nova Scotia in early July, I realized that those encounters were not isolated moments.
The Filipinos I met at Peggy's Cove, Hall's Harbour, and the Halifax Farmers' Market were part of a much larger, dynamic and growing narrative. They represented a global community that has quietly built connections across societies.
This is why the phrase "Invisible Visible Minority" remains relevant because the full significance of their contribution remains insufficiently recognized.
The future requires measuring it also through what it connects: ideas, opportunities, expertise, and relationships–which far transcend remittances. That is the essence of Filipino diasporic capital.
The Philippines' greatest resource has always been its people. In the twenty-first century, that resource extends far beyond its shores.
The challenge now is not whether Filipinos around the world can contribute to the nation's future. They already are.
The challenge is whether the Philippines can fully recognize, engage, and harness the extraordinary network and energy it has already created. The invisible has always been visible.
The various locales where I met Filipinos abroad are no longer the last places I expect to encounter the Philippines. They are simply the latest reminders that the Philippines has quietly become a global nation, sustained not only by the sacrifices of its people abroad, but also by what I have called Filipino diasporic capital.
Perhaps without fully recognizing it, the Philippines has already begun to build a distinctive development pathway rooted in the strengths of its global diaspora.

Cesar Polvorosa Jr. is a professor of International Business and Economics at a Canadian university whose research and writing examine development strategies, globalization, and institutions. He has written on Filipino diaspora and a book chapter on Filipino entrepreneurship in Canada published by the University of Toronto Press. He was nominated for the Pushcart Prize in Poetry, and his poetry and short stories have appeared in Asian and North American anthologies. He is an occasional contributor on economics, geopolitics, and international affairs to BusinessWorld, Interaksyon, and Philstar.

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FilAms Among The Remarkable And Famous, Part 81

Mona Lisa Yuchengco — Wed, 26 Aug 2026 17:39:43 +0000

Filipinos have been in the United States since the 16th century, yet many of their stories remain untold. For the past years, Positively Filipino has been running a series on notable Filipino Americans who have made their marks in this country. There are hundreds, or maybe even thousands more, that need to be added to this story, and we need your help. If you know of a Filipino American who deserves to be included in this line-up, please send us their names and any supporting documents you may have to pfpublisher@yahoo.com. For now, we are including only those who are currently active and visible in the media and the community, regardless of their religious, sexual or political orientation. Thank you.
Steven B. McLaughlin, Brigadier General

Brig. Gen. Steven McLaughlin (Photo by Minerva Amistoso)

McLaughlin assumed command of the 100th Training division (Leader Development) at Fort Knox, Kentucky on November 1, 2019. A native of Hillsborough, California, he obtained his commission as a second lieutenant in 1994, through the Reserve Officer Training Corps from Santa Clara University, California. He has been deployed to Germany, Hungary, Kuwait among other places. His awards include: The Bronze Star Medal, Meritorious Service Medal (3OLC), Army Commendation Medal, Army Achievement Medal (1 Silver OLC), Global War on Terrorism Expeditionary Medal, Global War on Terrorism Service Medal, National Defense Medal (2), Armed Forces Expeditionary Medal, Armed Forces Service Medal, Army Overseas Ribbon (3), Army Service Ribbon, NATO Medal, Army Superior Unit Award, and the German Army Truppendienst (Bronze).
Brigadier General McLaughlin’s military schools include the Transportation Officer Basic Course and Advanced Courses, Combined Armed Service and Staff School, Intermediate Level Education (ILE) Common Core, Army War College, Joint Combined Warfighter School, BN/BDE Pre Command Course, the Force Management How the Army Runs Course (HTARC) and the Anti-Terrorism Officer Course (Level 2 and Level 4).
He holds a Bachelor of Arts degree in History with a minor in Political Science from Santa Clara University and a master’s in Strategic Studies from the US Army War College. He is the grandson of Maria Avenido and Vitalino Balitaan who survived the civilian massacres in Laguna, Philippines during WWII.
Myrna Lynne Willkom Chai, Retired Nurse

Myrna Lynne Willkom Chai (Photo by Mona Lisa Yuchengco)

Chai, a retired Filipino nurse from Los Angeles flies to Lourdes, a small French town in the Pyrenees every spring and pushes wheelchairs for a week. She does not get paid. She pays her own airfare. She buys her own meals.
Born in Cagayan de Oro, Mindanao, the second of seven children in a Catholic household, she emigrated to the United States in the late 1970s on a nursing visa, the way thousands of Filipino women emigrated in those years — through a hospital that needed bedside nurses and was willing to sponsor the paperwork. She spent the next four decades on hospital floors in Los Angeles County. ER nights. ICU rotations. Oncology days. Hospice in the final years. She raised two children on those shifts and put them through college on those shifts and buried her husband on those shifts. By the time she retired, she had been a registered nurse for 41 years.
At 68 years old, she signed up to be a volunteer to help the sick and the aged who visit the grotto and basins of Lourdes in the hope of a miracle. Later on, she trained the new American volunteers in the basin protocols — how to position a paralyzed body in the cold spring water, how to time the lift with the breath, how to speak quietly to a woman who has not been touched in a year. She does it in English and in Tagalog and in the kitchen Spanish she picked up on Los Angeles oncology floors. She has gone back every year since.
Flomy Javier Diza, Immigration Lawyer

Flomy Javier Diza (Source: LinkedIn)

Diza is a Filipino American immigration attorney, community leader, and advocate whose journey began as the son of a farmer in the Philippines. A lawyer in both the Philippines and the United States, he is now a Senior Partner at Reeves Immigration Law Group, where he manages the firm’s San Francisco and Concord offices. He is a Certified Specialist in Immigration and Nationality Law by the State Bar of California and has spent over two decades guiding immigrants and families through complex legal pathways before USCIS, immigration courts, and U.S. consulates worldwide.
Diza has uplifted the Filipino community through education and advocacy. He initiated Talakayan, a series of public forums in partnership with the Philippine Consulate General in San Francisco, creating accessible spaces for dialogue on immigration and community issues. He also co-hosts the widely followed radio program, Immigration Law On Your Side, where he delivers timely and practical legal guidance to the Filipino diaspora.
His work has earned both international and community recognition. He was named one of The 2025 Outstanding Filipinos in America (TOFA) and received the Best Regular Radio Program award at the Migration Advocacy and Media Awards by the Commission on Filipinos Overseas. In recognition of his direct assistance to Filipino nationals detained during heightened immigration enforcement, he was awarded a Plaque of Commendation by the Philippine Consulate General in San Francisco. He was also honored as an Outstanding Advocate for Immigrant Justice by the Amerika Prestige Awards. -Submitted by Ben Loveman
Shawn Felipe, Comedian

Shawn Felipe (Source: Facebook)

Felipe’s victory at the prestigious 2025 San Francisco International Comedy Competition underscores his exceptional talent and dedication to his craft. The Breaking the Mold tour alongside Jo Koy provided invaluable experience and exposure, further honing his comedic skills. In reality television, his win on The Great Food Truck Race with Team Aloha Plate, shows his diverse skill set and competitive spirit. He has performed at over 200 colleges and universities, for U.S. military personnel, at major cruise lines, and Day Bar Comedy.
As a multi-ethnic, stand-up comedian, Shawn Felipe believes that comedy is derived from real life. Shawn always tries to find humor in various situations, even the toughest of struggles he has encountered so far in life. He believes God has blessed him, so that, regardless of the problems or challenges he faces, he can laugh at them and help others see the humor in them as well.
Shawn was born in Victorville, California but raised in Honolulu, Hawaii. He attended the University of Hawaii at Manoa, where he graduated with a bachelor's degree in Theatrical Arts and TV production. Shawn's stand-up comedy acts have been featured on various networks, including Worldasia TV, AZN TV,IA TV,The Filipino Channel,Sprint Comedy-Time Network, and National Lampoon Comedy Radio.
Bea Millan-Windorski, Beauty Queen

Bea Millan-Windorski (Source: Wikipedia)

Millan-Windorski is the Philippines’ new queen at the Miss Universe Philippines 2026. Born on August 15, 2002 to a family of immigrants, she traces her maternal roots to San Juan, La Union, where her grandparents, Alfredo and Marcela Millan, lived before moving to Nueva Vizcaya, and later deciding to emigrate to the United States in search of better opportunities. In the U.S., her mother met her American father, who comes from a family of Polish-German immigrants. Growing up in a predominantly white area of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, Bea initially struggled with identity and belonging, but eventually found a sense of responsibility to discover and introduce her Philippine heritage to the community.
The 23-year-old beauty queen earned a double degree in International Studies and History “with comprehensive honors” at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, focusing on Southeast Asian Studies, where she learned the Filipino language and completed a thesis on Filipinos in the U.S. Navy. She was also awarded a fellowship with the Embassy of the Republic of the Philippines in the U.S. and got an internship at the East-West Center in Washington, DC, which paved a path for her to learn more about U.S.-ASEAN relations, as well as hone her Filipino language literacy. Beyond her strong academic background, the 5-foot-11 stunner excels in the performing arts, as she was also a high school varsity dance team member and a ballet dancer in the Milwaukee Ballet School.
Mark Philip Valerio Santos, Owner, Valerio’s Bakeshop

Mark Philip Valerio Santos (Source: Instagram)

Mark Philip Valerio Santos was recently recognized as one of the 100 Global Entrepreneurs for his contributions to business leadership, community engagement, and the continued global presence of Filipino entrepreneurship in the United States. As a Filipino American entrepreneur based in San Diego, he represents the next generation of leadership built on heritage, innovation, and community impact.
Santos is the third-generation owner and operator of Valerio’s Bakeshop, the family-owned bakery established by his grandparents, Victor and Milagros Valerio. Under his leadership, the company has continued to grow while preserving the traditions and Filipino identity that shaped the brand through generations.
Valerio’s Bakeshop received national recognition after winning at the 2025 World Bread Awards USA during IBIE Las Vegas, one of the world’s largest baking expos. Beyond the family business, Mark also serves as a Board Director for the San Diego Regional Chamber of Commerce, National City Chamber of Commerce.
Andi Therese Sycip, Lab Researcher

Andi Therese Sycip (Source: Upenn.edu)

SyCip, a biology major at the University of Pennsylvania, conducted research on how minor genetic alterations to estrogen-relation receptor binding sites impact heart functions. She was mentored by Dr. Daniel Kelly (Department of Medicine). She graduated Magna Cum Laude. SyCip, a pre-med student, was offered a Fulbright 2026-27 to conduct field-based research in Leyte, Philippines, evaluating the effectiveness of mass drug administration programs for schistosomiasis to inform targeted, culturally responsive care.
SyCip studied at the International School Manila. She also did research and report writing at the Philippine Daily Inquirer Editorial Department.
Nacho Tambunting, Actor

Nacho Tambunting (Source: Facebook)

Tambunting is a New York–based actor working across television, film, and theater. Born and raised in Manila and trained at NYU Tisch School of the Arts, he is drawn to emotionally layered stories of identity, family, power, and belonging.
On screen, Nacho has recurred on NBC’s Rise and Apple TV+’s Dickinson, with guest appearances on Netflix’s Ashley Garcia: Genius in Love and BET+’s First Wives Club. His film credits include Asian Persuasion and Come Into My Arms, and he can be heard in the iHeartRadio scripted series Does This Murder Make Me Look Gay?
Nacho made his Off-Broadway debut originating the title role in Felix Starro with Ma-Yi Theater Company. His theater work includes Trilogy and The Play You Want at Two River Theater, the world premiere of Everything Beautiful Happens at Night at Capital Stage, and most recently, Melchior in Sandbox Collective’s Spring Awakening in Manila.
In addition to acting, Nacho develops new work for stage and screen. He is currently producing Mercury Makes the Skin Glow with playwright Gaven D. Trinidad following sold-out readings in both Manila and New York.
Rear Admiral Victorino Mercado, U.S. Navy

Rear Admiral Victorino Mercado (Source: AUSA)

Rear Adm. Victorino Mercado is a native of Virginia and graduated from the U.S. Naval Academy in May 1983 with a Bachelor of Science in Mathematics/Computer Science. Mercado holds a master’s degree in systems technology in Joint Command, Control, and Communications from the Naval Postgraduate School in Monterey, California, completed Air Command and Staff College and is a graduate and a Commandant’s Writing Award winner from the Joint/Combined Warfighting Senior School at Joint Forces Staff College.
He was confirmed by the Senate in 2019 as Assistant Secretary of Defense for Strategy, Plans, and Capabilities. He was responsible for advising the Secretary of Defense and the Under Secretary of Defense for Policy on national security and defense strategy; the forces, contingency plans, and associated posture necessary to implement the defense strategy; nuclear deterrence and missile defense policy; and security cooperation plans and policies. Mercado ensured that the Department's program and budget decisions support and advance senior DoD leaders' strategic direction, especially as articulated in defense planning guidance.
Mercado graduated from the U.S. Naval Academy in May 1983 with a Bachelor of Science in Mathematics and Computer Science, and he holds a master's degree in systems technology in Joint Command, Control, and Communications from the Naval Postgraduate School in Monterey, California. His decorations include the Defense Superior Service Medal (three awards), the Legion of Merit Medal (four awards) and various individual and unit campaign awards. He is also a former Commander in Chief, U.S. Pacific Fleet Shiphandler of the Year award winner.
Marie Husa, Relations Director

Marie Husa (Source: Muni.org)

Born in Manila, Philippines, Husa has been an Alaskan since 1984. She was an investigator for the Anchorage Equal Rights Commission for 17 years, probing discrimination complaints. Currently she is the Constituent Relations Director where she ensures Anchorage residents of all backgrounds have a direct line of communication with the Mayor’s office.
She holds a master’s degree in counseling psychology from Alaska Pacific University and is a licensed professional career and life coach. She is a past president and board member of the Alaska Federation of Filipino Americans. She lives in Anchorage with her husband of 26 years; they have two daughters, one attending law school in Seattle University and the other studying Business and Psychology at the University of Alaska Anchorage.
J Rey Soul, Singer

J Rey Soul (Source: Facebook)

Jessica Joy Seria Reynoso aka J Rey Soul, is a Filipino American singer known for participating in the first season of The Voice of the Philippines and collaborating and touring with the Black Eyed Peas since 2018.
Starting her musical career at an early age, she appeared on the first season of The Voice of the Philippines and joined coach apl.de.ap's team, becoming a finalist on the show. After a couple of released singles and a collaboration with apl.de.ap, Reynoso joined the Black Eyed Peas, replacing Fergie as their singer in 2018.
Reynoso was born in Hong Kong to an African American father and a Filipino mother. Having been abandoned at some point by her parents, she would later be adopted and raised in, San Pedro, Laguna, Philippines by her adoptive parents who exposed her to music at a young age. In 2007, she joined the competition show Popstar Kids at age 10. In a later interview, she says that she didn't get much attention due to her skin color. She completed her contract with the GMA Network, which produced the show, in 2012. She attended PATTS College of Aeronautics taking Air Freight Operations.
In 2021, she signed with Epic Records and released the single Pull Up with will.i.am featuring Nile Rodgers, which was used for the Mercedes-Benz AMG campaign. That same year, she sang the national anthem of the Philippines at the professional boxing match between Manny Pacquiao and Yordenis Ugás.

Rising from the Ashes in Maui

Yiming Fu — Wed, 26 Aug 2026 17:39:30 +0000

This is the first in a series by AsAmNews of stories examining the rebuilding of homes and businesses in Lahaina as residents mark the third anniversary of the massive 2023 wildfire that devastated the historic community.
Originally published by AsAmNews: https://asamnews.com/2026/08/07/lahaina-recovery-rebuild-progress-2026/
LAHAINA, Maui — Krizhna Bayudan wakes up at the same address she’s known all her life. But the bed is different, the room is different, even the house is different. And her neighbors are not there.
Before the 2023 fire, Bayudan’s cousins lived next door. If her family needed eggs, they would walk over and knock. If her cousins needed rice, her family would return the favor.
The fire turned all that upside down. The fast-moving flames burned Lahaina’s entire historic downtown on Aug. 8, 2023, wiping out more than 2,200 structures, causing $5.5 billion in damages, displacing thousands of residents, and killing 102 people. The official death toll puts Lahaina as the deadliest U.S. wildfire in the last 100 years. It burned Bayudan’s neighborhood and family home to the ground.
Finally, earlier this year, the Bayudan family moved back into their rebuilt home in the Wahikuli neighborhood, more than two years after the fire moved through. They were the second on their street to return.
“I think it’s still shocking that we’re back,” Bayudan said.

Lahaina’s Wahikuli neighborhood, shown here on Aug. 26, 2023, was devastated in the wildfires that moved through the community just days earlier on Aug. 8, 2023. (Photo by Matthew Thayer/Special to AsAmNews)

Krizhna Bayudan sits near the front door outside her family’s new home on July 23, 2026, in the Wahikuli neighborhood in Lahaina. The family finally returned to their rebuilt home, more than two years after the Aug. 8, 2023, fires ravaged Lahaina. (Photo by Matthew Thayer/Special to AsAmNews)

Recovery has been a long and painful process for Lahaina. With the third anniversary of the fire approaching, AsAmNews obtained more than 3,000 building permits from Aug. 8, 2023, through July 15, 2026, through a public records request, and analyzed nearly 1,000 disaster recovery permits.
The analysis found that about 25% of the single family homes destroyed in the fire have been rebuilt, largely in inland neighborhoods like Wahikuli. Homes closer to the ocean are even less likely to have been completed, in part because of additional environmental and erosion concerns.
Rebuilding Lahaina
Three years after wildfires swept through the Lahaina community on the island of Maui in 2023, about one-fourth of the homes and about 6 percent of nonresidential properties had been rebuilt as of July 15, 2026. AsAmNews analyzed disaster recovery building permits filed with Maui County from the day the fires started on Aug. 8, 2023, through July 15, 2026. The residential numbers do not include large multi-family units, which were included within the nonresidential units at the time the data was released. Click on the dots to see more details.
“We understand why some people feel the recovery is moving too slowly,” Maui Mayor Richard Bissen said in a written statement to AsAmNews. “For families who are still displaced or working through the rebuilding process, every day can feel too long. Everyone’s experience is different, and perspectives often depend on where someone is in their own recovery journey.”

Details on multi-family projects became available on July 31, after Maui County revised its method of calculating residential rebuilding in response to questions from AsAmNews. The county’s recovery dashboard now includes apartments, townhomes and condominiums along with single-family homes being rebuilt.
“This will provide a more accurate picture of how many families have been able to return to Lahaina,” Maui County’s communications office said in a written statement emailed to AsAmNews.
The new numbers show that 38% of multi-family construction permits have been completed, with 313 individual housing units built since the fire. Of those, however, 200 units are in one long-planned development, Kaiāulu O Kūkuʻia, which broke ground before the fire but is considered a “new build,” according to Maui County officials.
Even as work continues, Lahaina may not be fully rebuilt for another four years, according to Jennifer Gray Thompson, founding director of After The Fire, a California-based nonprofit that helps communities recover from fires.
“[Lahaina] could have been rebuilt in two years, for sure,” Gray Thompson said. “But here’s the thing: who would it be rebuilt for, and what would those rebuilds look like? Because you could have had all of Lahaina town be white rectangle boxes, because those are inexpensive.”
A tight-knit, oceanside community where a grocery-store run can turn into an hours-long storytelling session, Lahaina has been a community defined by its people. But when Bayudan wakes up every morning, the view around her is empty. The homes are still gone.
“It’s like … where are you?” Bayudan said.
The slow rebuilding process has magnified concerns among residents about the changes underway in their community: Will Lahaina remain Lahaina?
Building back

Three years after fires swept through Lahaina on Maui, residents are returning to the Wahikuli neighborhood, shown here on July 23, 2026. (Photo by Matthew Thayer/Special to AsAmNews)

The widespread devastation from the fire has complicated projects that would have faced logistical problems under the best of circumstances.
As a small island in the Pacific Ocean, Maui must rely on building materials such as wood, roofing and sheetrock shipped in by boat, and it has a limited number of skilled construction workers and contractors.
Kekai Keahi, a Lahaina farmer who grows kalo, or taro, is a water rights activist and construction manager. He said it takes about the same time to build a house now as it did before the fire. A 1,700-square-foot home can be put up in three to five months with a team of five, Keahi said, but the complexity of the project, individual teammates and team synergy also influence how long any construction will take.
When homeowners applied for permits in the first year after the fire, many faced delays because they ordered materials such as cement from the same suppliers, Keahi said.
“Everybody [tried to] buy the same stuff,” Keahi said. “Stockpile wasn’t ready.”
Now, Keahi said, there’s enough to go around.
A change in the permitting process has made the biggest difference in speeding up the time it takes to rebuild, Keahi said. Maui County partnered with a private firm, 4LEAF, after the fire to create an expedited permit system for disaster recovery projects. The new disaster recovery permit combines electrical, plumbing, grading and building requirements into a single application.
Before the fire, owners could wait more than a year to get a permit, Keahi said, but they now can get a permit within two months under the new system.
Not all permits move that fast. County Councilmember Tamara Paltin, who represents Lahaina and who chairs the disaster recovery, international affairs and planning committee, said some shoreline permits are stuck because they have special problems. Some properties are being threatened by rising sea levels, while others fall into a Special Management Area, known as an SMA, with tighter restrictions to protect against coastal erosion and reef damage.
Rebuilds in Lahaina’s historic districts also face additional challenges. Historic properties have specific design guidelines to match the plantation and whaling-era architecture of old Lahaina town, and they may require cultural surveys to ensure the construction will not disturb Hawaiian remains.
Keahi’s family goes back nine generations in Lahaina, and his family’s property on Mala waterfront is Kuleana Land, he said. That means King Kamehameha III granted Keahi’s family the property when the Hawaiian Kingdom transitioned from public to private land ownership.
Keahi’s home was burned in the fire, but the property still remains vacant despite having a permit because it’s in an area threatened by rising sea levels. Neither the state nor county has yet said whether construction can begin.
“Are they going to give us new land somewhere else?” Keahi said.
Paltin, however, is generally happy with the pace of recovery, highlighting how Maui County worked with the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers to haul the fire debris out of Lahaina to a temporary site in Olowalu, a small town about six miles away, before moving it to a permanent disposal site in central Maui about 25 miles away. AsAmNews’ data analysis showed the debris removal is virtually completed, with more than 99 % of the 1,515 debris removal permits done as of July 15.
Cleaning up after the fires
The removal of debris left behind by the wildfires that swept through the Lahaina community in Maui in 2023 is virtually finished. Of the 1,515 permits for debris removal since the fires first erupted in August 2023, more than 99 percent had been completed as of July 15, 2026. AsAmNews analyzed debris removal permits filed with Maui County from Aug. 8, 2023 through July 15, 2026.
Rebuilds are also proceeding more quickly, Paltin said, on Lahaina’s mauka, or inland, side of Honoapiilani Highway, which divides properties with ocean access and those closer to the mountains.
Bayudan’s situation was unique. Her father worked as an owner/builder, meaning he oversaw the entire rebuild of the family home. He was able to hire people he’d worked with over the years doing building and renovation side jobs in Lahaina.
While the family lived in a Lahaina rental, Bayudan’s father worked on the house every day for 10 months with no breaks, Bayudan said. Today, six months after they moved back home, the family is still finishing up details such as closets and door stops, and buying furniture.
They weren’t spared the complications, however, of shipping times, sourcing materials and correcting mistakes, which can lead to long delays for typical rebuilds. The Bayudans, for example, had to wait an extra month for correctly sized roof trusses — and that’s with her family checking in frequently and assertively to make sure the materials were coming.
The Bayudan family largely built back what they had before, but they made everything a little bigger —bigger rooms, bigger bathrooms, a bigger communal space to host family parties. She lives with her parents, who bought the home in 1992, and her three siblings.
A changing town
Lahaina is the historic capital of the Hawaiian Kingdom and deeply sacred to Native Hawaiians. Throughout most of the 1800s, Hawaiian royalty ruled over the islands from their lush town of wetlands, freshwater ponds and waterways.
The first missionaries arrived in Lahaina in the 1820s, docking boats and transforming the Hawaiian Kingdom into a whaling town.
Sugar companies took over in the 1860s, diverting the town’s streams to create sugarcane plantations. Sugar companies recruited laborers from around the world, including from China, Japan and the Philippines.
After the sugar industry died down, tourism took over in the 1960s and remains Lahaina’s dominant industry. The Hawaii Tourism Authority reports over 11,000 units such as hotel rooms and other rental units for tourists in Lahaina in 2025, an increase after a drop of a few hundred units after the fire.
Lahaina soon became a hot spot for property investment, known for its bustling commercial oceanfront street, Front Street, which generated over $70 million in revenue each month. By 2020, before the fires, Lahaina had a population of 12,702.
The University of Hawaii reported 32% of Maui property owners are from the mainland U.S. or another country, more than for any other Hawaiian island. In Lahaina, over half of the property owners are not residents of Hawaii.
Today, Lahaina is a melting pot of cultures. Nearly one in three Lahaina residents is Filipino, and there are also strong Mexican and Micronesian communities.
Only about 5% of Lahaina’s population identifies exclusively as Native Hawaiian or Pacific Islander, but about one in four people in Lahaina is multiracial. About 40% are Asian, and 25.9% are White, according to U.S. Census data from July 2025. Less than 1% are Black alone.
Future generations

Lehua Iʻi sits on the gazebo on June 4, 2026, on the property where her home burned during the wildfires that swept through Lahaina, Maui, on Aug. 8, 2023. (Photo by Yiming Fu/AsAmNews)

For decades, Lehua Iʻi has watched Lahaina change.
Born and raised on Maui, Iʻi, now 66, has lived on the island all her life except for two years when she attended school on Oahu. She grew up on the oceanfront with Baby Beach as her backyard. Her kids could surf any time they wanted.
Iʻi lost her Fleming Road home in the fire, where up to 12 family members had lived. Of Iʻi’s three daughters, one still lives on Maui, one lives in Las Vegas and the other lives in Oregon. I’i moved eight times after the fire, eventually landing at the Ka La‘i Ola state housing, which provides wildfire survivors a place to stay until 2029.
After the fire, Iʻi wasn’t sure if she should even try to rebuild. But the response from her children was an overwhelming yes. Even if they didn’t live in Lahaina anymore, they wanted a place they could come home to.
When asked how often she hears of people moving away, she said, “More than I ever did.”
She likes to go to special events and parties for kupuna, or seniors, where she hears of her friends moving to Wailuku on the other side of the island, or upcountry, because it’s closer to the store or hospital. She also sees people announcing their moves on social media.
Finding a home in Lahaina ranges from expensive to impossible. And wages lag behind high rent, electricity, groceries and gas prices. The median Lahaina home cost was about $1.7 million around the time of the fire. In 2025, Lahaina’s median household income was about $88,000 a year.
The other day, Iʻi drove past a “For Sale” sign on her way to the post office.
“I don’t like to see for sale signs, because you don’t know who is going to get it,” Iʻi said. “Outsiders? Or people from here? I don’t know.”

The data analyzed for AsAmNews found that 212 properties in Lahaina’s burn zone changed hands as of July 2026.
Of the properties, 43, or about 20%, were sold to an owner who listed an address outside the State of Hawaii, including seven sold to out-of-state corporations.
Will neighbors return?
Lahaina has always been a close community. Keahi said residents often say they’re from the “Island of Lahaina” because Lahaina is its own special place with its own special rhythm. Everyone goes to the same school, and the town is connected to the rest of Maui through a winding, one-lane highway.
Ask someone from Maui to name their favorite NFL team, and they might say the San Francisco 49ers, Keahi said. Ask someone from Lahaina to name their favorite NFL team, and they’ll likely say the Lahainaluna High School Lunas.
Bayudan knew all her neighbors on her street. Their moms would talk, and kids in the same age group would play together.
“Half of the street is my relative,” Bayudan said.
Bayudan estimates about 20% of her neighbors have returned. Most are working on their rebuilds, though the lot behind her home remains empty with no signs of progress.
Not everyone is returning. A 2025 study by the University of Hawaii found at least 1,000 people left Lahaina for another part of Maui, and more than 120 people moved to another Hawaiian island. The study found that 240 moved out of Hawaii, but researchers acknowledge that is undoubtedly an underestimate.

Craig Hayase moved into his replacement home July 1, 2026, nearly three years after a fire swept through Lahaina on Maui. (Photo by Matthew Thayer/Special to AsAmNews)

Craig Hayase moved back to Lahaina in July. Four generations of his family live in Lahaina, with three generations together in his replacement home, since two daughters and two grandchildren live with him.
His neighbors on the left sold their home. His neighbors on the right aren’t sure when they’re going to rebuild. He’s not sure of the status of the neighbors behind him.
“We were close with both side neighbors,” Hayase said. “It doesn’t make it whole yet.”
Lahaina resident Mikey Burke fears her kids won’t grow up with the same pilina, a Hawaiian word for deep, meaningful relationships with people and places, that she had.
At the time of the fire, her children were entering what she called the “goonie years,” the lighthearted, preteen years when she remembers playing with friends on the street and forming lifetime bonds.
While her home rebuilding is under way, and most of her neighbors are building back what they had, she doesn’t know if her kids will form the same bonds.
“My fear is that we’re going to move back …but that pilina they were moving into is not going to happen,” Burke said.
Building a Land Trust
Autumn Ness wants to create more housing opportunities for local families so Lahaina’s community can stay and thrive.
Ness co-founded the nonprofit Lahaina Community Land Trust after the fire to protect against outsider speculators, who began calling families to buy properties before the flames were even put out.
The land trust purchases vacant properties from Lahaina sellers and then becomes the stewards of those lands. So far, they’ve secured 20 parcels of land that can accommodate 55 housing units. Those units can only be sold to Lahaina families.
“This is the first at-scale initiative where we’re actually taking land out of the market that was pushing our people out and putting it into an entirely new market that is actually reserved for Lahaina people,” Ness said.
While there aren’t any land trust homes for sale yet, the land trust plans to list units for sale ranging from $300,000 to $700,000.
The land trust receives funding from independent donors, Maui County and through partnerships in the Kaluaʻehu program, where different businesses donate a portion of their sales to the land trust.
“I think the number of Lahaina families with home ownership opportunities is actually going to increase in the wake of the fire,” Ness said. “The trend is going to reverse.”
The land trust also has a “Keep Lahaina Home Program,” which helps homeowners address gaps between insurance and rebuild costs.

The Samaritan’s Purse is rebuilding Lehua Iʻi’s home, which burned in the wildfire that swept through Lahaina, Maui, on Aug. 8, 2023. Iʻi, now 66, has lived on the island all her life except for two years when she attended school on Oahu. (Photo by Yiming Fu/AsAmNews)

Other residents, such as I’i and Frank Perry, got help through religious aid organizations like the Mennonites and Samaritan’s Purse, which filed permits and built homes for low-to-no cost.
Perry moved back into his rebuilt home on Feb. 1 after living in a rental unit across the island.
“Without them, I’d probably die here,” Perry said last year from the rental. “I’d be terribly lost. I will be forever grateful.”
Some families, like Kekoa Mowat’s, qualified for a federally-funded homeowner rebuild program that provides up to $1.2 million in grant money and allows owners to choose from different pre-set floor plans. Congress finalized the funding in June 2025.
“I like the people in Lahaina, and I want the people to live in Lahaina,” Mowat said at a community recovery meeting on May 6. “In the end, I’m going to have a house. And we will be in Lahaina.”
Looking ahead
Though families have started to return, the fire altered Lahaina indelibly.
Every day, Bayudan talks about the fire or its impacts with her friends and family. Talking about it is part of healing, she said.
But she still has memories of her old house. Sometimes, she said, it feels as if her memories and reality don’t align. She misses seeing her neighbors walk their dogs, or listening to people bicker through thin walls. She doesn’t think the new house will ever feel as homey as the old one did.

Krizhna Bayudan walks home to her Wahikuli neighborhood in Lahaina on Maui. Three years after the fire, she estimates that one in four of her neighbors has returned. (Photo by Matthew Thayer/Special to AsAmNews)

One day, while driving home from her job at a podiatrist’s office, Bayudan tried to picture what the drive used to look like. She couldn’t, so she looked through Google Maps to see the street views of her old neighborhood.
From her street, she realized she previously could see a line of 40 palm trees framing the ocean front. Now, there are only a few trees in view.
“It was my favorite view of Lahaina,” Bayudan said. “And it’s different now. It makes me sad. It’s bittersweet.”
As of July, however, Bayudan’s cousins began to put up framing for their new home next door. She can already see two floors and a roof.
She looks forward to the days when she can hang out with her cousins again. She remembers playing cards and Filipino board games, and eating good food. One of their obsessions was tracking down which local grocery stores had boba tea ice cream bars.
“I’m very happy and excited that those times will continue on very soon,” Bayudan said. “I can finally walk over there and knock on their door to get some eggs.”
This story was produced with the support of Report for America and Investigative Ed iting Corps, with Dianna Hunt as project editor. Journalist Daniel J. Willis contributed the data analysis and visualization journalist Yuxuan Xie the maps and graphics. Photographer Matthew Thayer took many of the photos.
How we did it
AsAmNews obtained data from Maui County for more than 3,000 building permit applications, starting with the day a massive wildfire swept through the Lahaina community on Aug. 8, 2023, and continuing through July 15, 2026. The initial data represented separate requests for projects at more than 1,600 individual properties.
AsAmNews then analyzed permits identified as “disaster recovery” projects for residential and nonresidential properties, a system that was set up by Maui County after the fire to speed up the rebuilding process. The disaster recovery permit combines electrical, plumbing, grading and building requirements into a single application.
Of the 926 disaster recovery permits for rebuilding residential properties, AsAmNews found that less than 25 percent had been completed. For nonresidential properties, which at the time included commercial and large multi-family structures, less than 6 percent of the disaster recovery projects had been completed.
AsAmNews then overlaid the permit locations onto a map of the burn area, showing that properties along the water were less likely to have been rebuilt than those inland.
AsAmNews also did a separate analysis of the 1,515 permits for debris removal, and found that those projects were largely finished. More than 99 percent of the debris removal permits had been completed as of July 15, with just four permits that remained pending.
Additional details were released by Maui County just days before publication. When questioned by AsAmNews about residential rebuilding, Maui County officials changed the residential rebuilding data to include large multi-family developments. Effective July 31, the county’s recovery dashboard now includes individual apartments, townhomes and condominiums along with single-family homes in the residential data.

AsAmNews journalist Yiming Fu, a Report for America corps member, obtained the permit data and reported the story from his home base on Maui.
Data journalist Daniel J. Willis analyzed the records for AsAmNews, and visualization journalist Yuxuan Xie produced the maps and graphic. Photographer Matthew Thayer took most of the photos.

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