Fashion is art, that much is undeniable. It is a tool for expression, both at an individual and cultural level. With the emergence of various clothing styles in the country such as Y2K or ‘kanto-style’ streetwear, then it comes as no surprise that many local and international clothing brands are scrambling to make their mark on the industry in the Philippines.

One such way of doing so is by introducing the eye-catching, often geometric patterns of the various Indigenous Peoples (IPs) in the country. Such a topic is relevant, seeing as National Indigenous People’s Day was celebrated throughout the country last August 9. However, with the many issues surrounding indigenous rights in the country, how can we be sure that the indigenous patterns that many Filipinos are starting to sport actually help IPs? What are the downsides of such rapid consumerist culture on this aspect of IPs’ livelihoods? And is it true that indigenous fashion is being gentrified in the contemporary Philippine market?

What is Gentrification?

Progress is often associated with the rise of infrastructure towering over an area and the buzz of urbanization, both commonly linked to an improving economy. This is why the metro is seen as a highly developed region in the country. However, these developments come with an underbelly: gentrification.

Coined in the 60s by German-British sociologist and urban planner Ruth Glass, the term ‘gentrification’ describes a phenomenon she observed in London of upper classes moving into originally lower-income neighborhoods to revamp houses. This displaces the working class and jacks up the prices of goods in the area, making it harder for those already living in the area.

In the Philippines, gentrification underlines issues of commercialization, privatization, and displacement brought about by urban development. This transformation is seen in places like Divisoria, once known for its locally sourced produce markets, which have now been replaced by dimly lit modern malls. Moreover, cities and provinces face the looming presence of infrastructures like MRT-7 railroading the communities out of their homes. More recently, Clark International Airport and Corp. (CIAC) President and CEO Arrey Perez announced plans to build what he called a ‘Taylor Swift-ready stadium’ in Clark. This came with concerns about the land and resources necessary to build the 30,000-seater arena, and the possible issues for those living in the surrounding areas. These buildouts, while feeding the image of a ‘world class’ Manila and attracting foreign investments, uproot local economies, public spaces, and the livelihoods of lower-income communities, raising concerns about who the developments are truly serving.

Gentrification in Fashion

Gentrification has transcended urban developments, finding a parallel in the context of cultural appropriation and commodification in the Philippines’ fashion scene. The indigenous weaves, or at least what look like them, make a recurring appearance in various local fashion houses. These textiles are now being reinterpreted to cater to a broader, usually higher-income, market which can potentially put the craft and culture of IPs at risk of exploitation.

Indigenous culture and fabrics have also become a victim of gentrification in the fashion industry. Though the country is home to over a hundred ethnic groups with each one having their own uniquely rich weaving tradition and designs, they have unfortunately been lumped together under the more marketable umbrella of ‘traditional clothing.’

This homogenization removes the deep nuances that this cultural heritage may have. For example, one may not be able to distinguish between the geometric works of the Maranao, and the dreamed-up patterns of the dream weavers of the T’boli. These patterns are of great cultural and social significance to these groups, but they have become mass produced, detached from their roots and marketed as a symbol of culture when very few are aware of its cultural significance in the first place.

The expansion of the textile market connects local artisans to a broader audience purportedly offering good exposure and economic opportunities. However, this also sets a capitalist operation in motion, superseding significant cultural and communal practices intrinsic to the indigenous communities. The craft is subjected to shifts in the market that will most likely alter the way weaves are produced and priced. This could potentially lead to a case similar to fast fashion: mass production of indigenous textiles that values profit over quality, to the disadvantage of its creators and their craft.

The problem then of the gentrification of IP material is that it is tied to cultural appropriation Many large-scale textile manufacturers attempt to recreate the ‘exotic’ look of indigenous fabrics, but take away from it the centuries-old dyeing, designing, and weaving processes that make the fabrics valuable in the first place. Beyond that, the indigenous weavers who live out their cultural traditions often do not get enough compensation for their work, leading to the slow dying of these practices as they are restricted only to those who put in the time, effort, and money to seek authentic indigenous textiles. Such is the case of the Isinay weave from Nueva Vizcaya, which had already gone extinct in the past decade if not for a strong and rapid revival movement spearheaded by half-Isinay personality Jeannie Laccay.

For other indigenous groups, such a revival is rare to happen. Many weavers are left without a stable livelihood, not passing on the craft to the next generation due to a lack of interest. Meanwhile companies who may not have ties with ethnic groups earn from cheaply-made knock-offs bought by people who, unfortunately, do not know better.

Brands and Social Responsibility: Balik Batik

Founded “on a whim” by Ateneo de Manila University alumna Veronica Baguio in early 2020, Balik Batik is a Cebu-based boutique that sells traditional fabrics incorporated into a more modern style of clothing. After learning about the wide variety of indigenous textiles, a small-scale pasabuy endeavor quickly evolved into a business that offers clothes with a cultural flair, suited for all kinds of occasions. Offering a wide variety of blazers, suits, terno-style tops and even corsets, Balik Batik uses fabrics sourced directly from weavers of various ethnic groups all over the country. Balik Batik first featured the langkit weaving style of the Maranao in its earliest clothes, but has quickly expanded its partnerships to more than 10 ethnic groups from Luzon, Visayas, and Mindanao. Their manner of operations has also expanded, having had multiple pop-up stalls in Metro Manila.

Though pricey at first glance, a portion of the P3,000 that you would use in purchasing a top from Balik Batik goes directly to partner indigenous weavers and artists to support them.

Pandemic Beginnings

In an interview with Baguio, she recounted the moment she decided to use her business to advocate for social responsibility. At the beginning of the pandemic, just as Balik Batik was starting out, many ethnic groups who relied on tourism for their livelihoods were struggling to make money due to lockdown protocols. “What used to take 50 pesos would take 200 pesos. If [the weavers] could sell, it would take them 200 pesos to travel to the city where they can send out their fabrics,” she shared.

In response to the messages from the indigenous weavers she first met online, she continued to run her online business even as other, more-established stores started closing down. “We were able to engage with the community and we were able to take in orders. And so, we could do orders with our weavers. We were filling in the gap because other brands had shuttered down,” she claimed.

Discussing economic responsibility, she also clarified, “So, livelihood is not about giving, it’s about empowering, right? It’s about doing that. It’s pushing them up. So, we always say we’re supporting their livelihood. We’re not providing them their livelihood. They provide for themselves their livelihood.”

Sustaining Culture

While discussing the power that fashion and clothing has in preserving and expressing one’s culture, Ms. Baguio highlighted three things. First were the cultural considerations that went into designing the pieces that go for sale online and at the boutique. Many of the groups they work with are Muslim or Moro groups, so respect for their cultural and societal norms is at the forefront of the design-making process. Hence, their products might be seen as modest, and more revealing clothing like swimwear or sleeveless attire will not be featured on their fashion lines any time soon. For Baguio, it is all about being sensitive to the cultures she and Balik Batik work with.

Second was the matter of making cultural pieces such as theirs accessible. This meant being prudent with how they use the fabrics they source, and pricing their products in such a way that many Filipinos would still be able to appreciate and afford it. T’nalak from the T’boli of South Cotabato, for example, is one of the fabrics that they have worked with before. However, with how expensive a yard of some T’nalak designs can be, many of their clothes feature only a strip of it incorporated into the design. “A lot of people have gone up to me and said, ‘I’m saving up for a Balik Batik for my graduation.’ And people have really successfully worn it. They really saved up for it. ‘Finally, I’m wearing Balik Batik for my graduation!’ And it really warms my heart… It really will be something you’d save up for, but we will make it worth it,” Baguio said.

Third, and perhaps most relatable, was the role that research played in the cultural responsibility of the brand. For Baguio, much of the influence that Balik Batik garnered online was because of the research they had posted on their social media accounts.

“I’d post about the same fabric in different ways and people would share. I saw how people were interested about this. So, I was just learning as I go,” she shared. This showcased the power that social media and a good grasp of the online environment had in promoting culture and knowledge. For many people, their first interaction with Balik Batik may not even have been for their clothes but the information they made more readily available on the indigenous fabrics of the country.

Appropriation or Appreciation?

Cultural appropriation, especially of marginalized groups, is a heated topic. For a business especially that transforms indigenous fabrics to modern clothing, how does Balik Batik ensure they do not cross the line of cultural appropriation?

Baguio’s answer? “I don’t [set the line of cultural appropriation]. They do.”

For her, it is the indigenous weavers who dictate the boundary between appreciation and appropriation. What a business like hers can and cannot do with the fabric is dependent on what the ethnic groups they work with say they can do. It can be a difficult task, especially when fabrics of different groups look similar to each other, or when different communities belonging to the same ethnic group argue over what should and should not be allowed.

However, the choice to listen to the weavers she works with is an easy choice for Baguio. After all, the fabrics that they work with hold significant cultural and sacred value for the ethnic groups, something she emphasizes Balik Batik respects. Constant consultation with the ethnic groups she works with is a must for her, and is a must for anyone seeking to work with a cultural heritage such as Balik Batik does.

Call to Action

It is easy to say that gentrification in the fashion industry could be solved by patronage of what can be considered ‘ethical’ stores, and the boycott of ‘unethical’ stores. However, in the age of information and technology, blind patronage is often not enough. Though Balik Batik is one local alternative fashion brand you can support, it is always better to know the full extent of fashion options before making a choice. The online landscape is a treasure trove of undiscovered yet high-quality local brands that may be better suited for different styles, budgets, and needs.

Fashion like this is not cheap, especially with the great lengths needed to produce even a yard of indigenous fabric. Information, however, is virtually free to anyone with a gadget and a few extra minutes of their time, and it is more than worth it to know more about the fashion trends and brands that find their popularity in social media and beyond.

Fashion is an art form. It is a manner of expression, but within our expression there must be great importance given to sustainability, social responsibility, and cultural appreciation.

HEIGHTS Ateneo would like to thank Ms. Veronica Baguio for her time and insights shared for this article.

Joie Ocampo is a third-year student studying BS Psychology at Ateneo de Manila University. Combining her college major with her love for the arts, she is interested in exploring the deeper psychological and societal meanings of the various works she encounters.

Brylle Principe is Management junior trying to find his way into the arts. He’s quirky on the streets, saks lang sa spreadsheets. He cooks, he hoards, and he spends too much time online.

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