DJ on stage. Bass drops. Glasses clink. A crowd of Filipino and Filipino-American youth moves under dim bar lights—and then it hits: a remix of Lupang Hinirang. Not in a space of respect, not in quiet reflection, but in a setting built for spectacle.
Let’s not sugarcoat it—this isn’t just an expression. It’s turning something meaningful into something consumable.
There’s a difference between engaging with culture and using it for vibe. And when a national anthem—written in the context of resistance and sacrifice—is reduced to a beat drop, it stops being a symbol. It becomes background noise. That is where RA 8491, or the Flag and Heraldic Code of the Philippines, comes in—not to kill the moment, but to draw a line on the casual disrespect and misuse of the national anthem, which is meant to be treated with solemnity, not as entertainment.
And, honestly, that is PUCHO-TISM.
A kind of patriotism that looks convincing but has no depth. Flags become props. Language becomes aesthetic. Identity becomes performance. It’s loud when it’s visible, but silent when it actually matters. It shows up strongest in curated spaces—bars, parties, social media—where identity is something you can wear for a night and take off just as easily.
Let’s be real—being Filipino outside the Philippines isn’t always simple. Growing up as Filipino-Americans, don’t always have a direct, steady connection to the Philippines. Identity gets pieced together through fragments—food, music, and shared spaces. And there’s nothing wrong with trying to reconnect.
But here is the thing; not everything that looks like reconnection is meaningful.
Some of it is curated. Some of it is surface-level. Some of it is just there to look good, to feel good, to be posted. And when national symbols get pulled into that space, they don’t just lose context—they lose weight.
Because once you strip away the history, the struggle, the meaning—what’s left? A sound? A moment? A trend?
That’s the problem. It becomes easy to engage with because it no longer asks anything from you. No understanding. No reflection. No responsibility. Just participation.
Written by Drexli Joanna Ambida, Insight PH
Drexli Joanna Ambida, Insight PH is a dedicated campus journalist and contributor. Their insightful writing sparks meaningful conversations and keeps the community informed.
