[OPINION] There’s no winning the ‘Englishera’ debate

Every few days, among the Philippines’ population of almost 115 million, one is anointed—by our algorithms or some similar higher being—to be the “bunot.” 

This means being the main character of exhausting online discourse, subject to the scrutiny and hot takes of ferocious Facebook comments and nameless X users. This week, it’s 28-year-old Aly, or at least the version of her from five months ago that appeared on the YouTube dating show Pusuan or Laruan with Marion Aunor. In it, contestants holding balloons are introduced to a potential match; they pop it to show they’re not interested. 

Aly popped hers after meeting school instructor Ian. “I’m an Englishera,” she explained. “Baka ma-overwhelm ka sa’kin, at baka ma-overwhelm din ako sa’yo ‘pag straight Tagalog.” While Ian introduced himself in English, Aly opted out when he began explaining his red flags mostly in Filipino.

While the clip is quite old, it has recently been reedited and reuploaded by the show on social media, inviting the rage of Filipino users. Many argued that this isn’t enough of a dealbreaker, noting that Aly wasn’t much of an “Englishera” to begin with. One Reddit user said, “The fact that she thinks speaking fluent English is intimidating means she thinks highly of herself. And the same goes if she were to speak with someone who speaks a different language, she immediately thinks highly of that person.” (Notably, the contestant before Ian, the tall, deep-voiced Yuri who spoke almost only in English, was Aly’s type.) 

In its long-winding history as the official second language of the country, English carries multiple meanings in the Filipino psyche. One such perspective, according to research by Loy Lising and Maria Lourdes S. Bautista, is English as an enduring “byproduct of colonization.” Decades of American rule have ingrained in us an inflated idolatry of our colonizers and, consequently, an inferior opinion of our own identities. In the 20th century, Americans in the country called Filipinos their “little brown brothers,” and we never unlearned the impulse.

This colonization was further formalized by the transplantation of the American education system. Even after the Philippines gained independence, we continued to have high regard for everything we inherited, particularly English. Fluency in the language is one of the easiest signifiers that establishes proximity to Americans—the very people we’re socialized to aspire to be. 

Perhaps the criticisms about Aly’s veneration of English are not unfounded. In a way, it reeks of putting the West on a pedestal. Why would it be overwhelming for a Filipino to hear straight Tagalog, and why would it be a dealbreaker in a relationship? While fluency in English is a useful skill in an increasingly globalized world, it’s more of a marker of social capital than a prerequisite for intelligence. 

It can’t be ignored, too, that being fluent in English is nothing special in the Philippines. This is another category of hate comments that Aly received: “I’m fluent in English, too, but I don’t consider it as a personality trait and measure to date,” another Reddit user posted. The Philippines is the land of BPOs and OFWs after all; the capacity to speak English fluently is the livelihood of millions of Filipinos. This was also formalized with policy as early as 1974, with late president Ferdinand Marcos’ Philippine Labor Code. “[It] laid the foundation for labor migration, which mandated the country’s promotion of the overseas employment of Filipino workers,” Lising and Bautista added. Last year, Filipinos scored above the global average in English proficiency in a Pearson report.

With that said, there is also some truth to Aly’s statement that some people find English “intimidating.” It’s common for fluent speakers to be subjected to “nosebleed” comments or smart-shaming. Filipinos’ broken English is a tired trope in comedies in and out of the country. In 2021, during Marian Rivera’s stint as a Miss Universe judge, some critics questioned her English-speaking skills, to the point that the actress had to defend herself.

Author Hazel T. Biana connects smart-shaming to our value of hiya or shame: While English has always been part of how we learn and work, it’s normatively reserved for these professional settings. Using it in everyday conversations, on some level, deviates from social mores; as a collectivist culture, we have an inkling to shut down whatever’s different. This is all the more potent in the current disinformation age, when contrasting opinions are perceived as personal attacks.

There’s much to be said about the inherently flawed format of the online dating show and how it sets up its participants for inflamed scrutiny. Aly’s “Englishera” line went unnoticed when the episode first went live late last year, overshadowed by the cringe of the self-declared “golden retriever boy” in the beginning of the video. It was only upon the reupload of the clip that the hate began—while we spent days enraged by the Englishera, doesn't the YouTube show have some responsibility behind the vitriol that Aly received too?

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not reflect the opinions of PhilSTAR L!fe, its parent company and affiliates, or its staff.