[NEIGHBORS] A Bisaya’s voice: Even abroad, we carry the divide

1 month ago 13

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“Neighbors” is Rappler People section’s space for community and human interest stories told in a personal way.

Moving abroad is a dream many Filipinos share. Whether to improve their quality of life, escape the country’s toxic political landscape, or simply seek a fresh start, one has the utmost hope of finding a better life. Along with this dream comes the hope that, outside the Philippines, regional nuances will no longer matter. That, once we are on foreign soil, we will stand as equals under one shared identity: Filipino.

But for Bisaya-speaking individuals like me, that’s not always the case. Unfortunately, there are instances when biases and stereotypes from some Tagalog-speaking kababayans (fellow Filipinos) still find their way into our daily lives.

Living in Canada for three years now, I have had my share of experiences where I am reminded that stereotypes from our Tagalog-speaking kababayans are carried over from the homeland. From accent-shaming and jokes to being excluded from conversations, nothing has changed how some Tagalog-speaking people make us feel inferior.

I remember visiting a lab clinic once, and the attending lab assistant was a Filipina who spoke Tagalog. She was friendly and very accommodating. Of course, that is not uncommon when meeting kababayans abroad. When I switched to speaking Bisaya after talking to a family member, the tech’s expression changed, saying, “Ay, Bisaya ka pala?” (Oh, so you’re Bisaya?) It’s as if being Bisaya is a bad thing.

Situations like this make me feel as if the moment I reveal my identity as a Bisaya speaker, something shifts. Not to be overly dramatic, but it’s like I’ve fallen a few notches in their unspoken hierarchy of who gets to belong, who gets respected, and who gets silently judged. It’s subtle, but it stings. The warmth disappears just a little, and, in that moment, I’m reminded that even among fellow Filipinos, one can still feel excluded.

This is just one of many, and it mirrors the experiences of other non-Tagalog speakers abroad. Talking with my friends who live in the US, the Middle East, and other parts of the globe, I realized that this is a shared sentiment. For example, it is a common thing for Bisaya-speaking people to be asked during community events or group chats not to talk in our native tongue, even if we are only talking among ourselves. Under the guise of “para magkaintindihan ang lahat” (so we’ll all understand each other), we are forced to speak Tagalog.

On the surface, this looks harmless, but this subtle policing of language somehow reinforces the idea that Bisaya is less national, less acceptable. Even in gatherings where the majority of the attendees are Bisaya people, we are still expected to speak in Tagalog. Remarks like “ang tigas ng Tagalog mo” (your Tagalog is so stiff) or “ang bastos pakinggan” (it sounds vulgar) are commonly heard.

In moments like these, I usually ask myself, “To what extent does Tagalog’s status as [basis for] the national language have reach or authority?” I’m no sociolinguist, but I believe subtle comments like these can be considered microaggressions that build over time — sending a wrong message that Bisaya voices must be softened or silenced to be accepted. It’s sad to think that in a progressive country that celebrates diversity and inclusion, one still feels discriminated against and excluded because of his native tongue.

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As someone who has lived in Mindanao (a largely Bisaya-speaking island) most of my life, I can say that these negative attitudes towards non-Tagalog speakers aren’t formed in a vacuum. This has stemmed from how Bisayas have been portrayed by the media all these years. After all, our common representation in movies and sitcoms has been limited to being a comic relief, a kasambahay (maid), or a sidekick character who often speaks in an exaggerated Cebuano accent. It’s already 2025, and yet it is still common to see noontime TV show hosts make fun of a Bisaya person by mimicking a heavy regional accent when speaking Tagalog.

Moreover, it’s disheartening to note that the Manila-centric culture makes the word “Inday” synonymous with being a housemaid or “yaya” (nanny) when, in fact, it is traditionally a term of endearment for young girls or daughters. A stereotype for Bisaya women that reduces them to a servant role in the national imagination. Sadly, this is still prevalent today.

For some people raised in Tagalog-speaking regions, these stereotypes might have filtered into the everyday perception of what Bisaya-speaking people are. I remember meeting someone in Manila during an event I attended a few years ago. He asked me if we do have taxis and malls in Mindanao. Although it was an honest question, it somehow reinforces the fact that their perceptions of regions outside Manila have been filtered by the stereotypes and biases they see in mainstream media. In the minds of these uninformed people, we still ride on the backs of carabaos when we go to work or school.

The recent statement of political scientist Richard Heydarian in an interview with CNN, stating that Mindanao has an HDI (Human Development Index) comparable to that of the Sub-Saharan African region, may add to that stereotype of being poor and less educated than our northern Filipino fellowmen. Although there is some truth in what he said, it is still an unfair generalization of what the second-largest island in the Philippines is. I may agree with the data he presented, but I believe it could have been presented without fueling the stereotypes and biases toward Mindanaoans.

Good thing social media is now slowly changing the narrative of how the Bisaya language is perceived. In recent years, several content creators have thrived on different socmed platforms. They confidently speak Bisaya in their skits, vlogs, commentaries, music, and storytelling. Some of these content creators unapologetically refuse to put subtitles in their videos. What was once considered baduy or “unrefined” by mainstream Filipino media is now being reclaimed as cool, witty, and authentic. Aside from being entertaining, these content creators help reshape perceptions and assert that the Bisaya language is rich, expressive, and worthy of pride. On top of this, they give young audiences a chance to see themselves reflected in media, not as caricatures or sidekicks, but as protagonists of their own stories.

With all these being said, I think it is also important to acknowledge that not all Tagalog-speaking Filipinos I met abroad think they have linguistic superiority over other regional languages. In fact, some of my closest friends are Tagalog-speaking people who show deep respect for Bisaya language and culture. I’ve seen kids in school learn Bisaya phrases and expressions from their Bisaya friends. A co-worker of mine listens with curiosity when we speak in our mother tongue. This shows that, although there are still people who carry the bias, there are those who think that being Filipino is not confined to speaking Tagalog fluently; it’s about shared values, empathy, and honoring the diversity of our roots. This mentality helps bridge the divide and proves that unity doesn’t require uniformity.

For Filipinos abroad, this kind of openness is important. We are all navigating unfamiliar environments while holding on to pieces of home. It is only when we choose to celebrate each other’s languages and stories, instead of deciding which one is superior to the other, that we create more inclusive communities. After all, being Filipino is not about one dominant language — it’s about standing together, especially when we are far from home. – Rappler.com

A former public school teacher in the Philippines, Rey Francis Dayaan now lives in Saskatchewan, Canada. In his spare time, he finds joy in writing pieces that portray his life as an immigrant.

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