Warp and Weft: Preserving our Looms

Carmina and Patch “thread the needle” about the Philippines’ rich textile and weaving heritage. From the South to the North, they discover how indigenous people from all over the country reflect their pre-colonial history, way of life, spiritual beliefs, and customs in the fabrics they weave. Listen in as they discuss the immense creativity and complexity required of various weaving techniques and the reasons why we must protect them at all costs. They also explore the weavers’ challenges and how some organizations, both in the Philippines and the US, are fighting to preserve this dying art. Lastly, learn about practical ways for all of us to respect our indigenous kin by combating cultural (mis)appropriation.  

Learn more: Philippines Indigenous Textile: Then and Now, Sinaunang Habi: Philippine Ancestral Weave, Weaving Patterns in the Philippines: Heritage, Design, and Their Meanings, From the Rainbow’s Varied Hue: Textiles of the Southern Philippines, Habi: The Philippine Textile Council, Liwayway, La Herminia, Filip + Inna, and More: Local Brands That Champion Filipino Weaving Heritage, Weaving Between the Lines: Authenticity, Identity, and Place(s) of Origin, UCLA’s Ifugao Heritage Galleries, Decolonizing the past, empowering the future: Community-led heritage conservation in Ifugao, Philippines, Ifugao Archeological Project, Inabel: Philippine Textile From the Ilocos Region, Museo Ilocos Norte, Balay ni Atong, The Rich History of Philippine Textiles, From Pineapple to Piña: A Philippine Textile Treasure | SFO Museum, Upholding T’boli tradition through T’nalak weaving | Edge Davao, and Filipino textiles tell a deeper story about the country's Indigenous cultures.

 
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Transcript

Welcome to FilTrip, a podcast where we explore everything fun, weird, and in between about the Philippines.
 
 Hi, Patch.
 
 Hi, Carmina.
 
 Today's trip is about Philippine textiles.
 
 And Patch, we always talk about how hard it is to find books and references for our pre-colonial history.
 
 And in researching this episode, I stumbled across such an important insight.
 
 In one of the books that I've read, it said, for clues about pre-colonial history, observe arts and way of life of indigenous people, specifically in their music, dances, jewelry, and textiles.
 
 It turns out that the Philippines boasts a diverse and rich heritage when it comes to textiles.
 
 And the country's complex history and multitude of ethnic groups contribute to this diversity.
 
 Yeah, so in particular, right, weaving as a practice is a great documentation of our history.
 
 And it has survived over the centuries because, number one, it's a recreational activity and a way to socialize for these indigenous tribes.
 
 It's also spiritual.
 
 So some believe that the color, symbols, and patterns they weave are a way to communicate with the gods.
 
 So an example of this is the Tinagu pattern of the Ifugao, which is meant to represent their deified ancestors and those ancestors' protection over their descendants in the village.
 
 And for them, it's super important that the weaving is precise, down to the thread spacing and count variations because of the purpose.
 
 There's also an anecdote in one of the books we're going to link in our show notes, and it's called From the Rainbow's Varied Hues.
 
 It tells of an American ethnologist named Laura Watson Benedict, who tried to buy a textile from a Bagobo in the early 1900s.
 
 The Bagobo didn't want to sell it to her because he was afraid that he was going to offend the soul of the cloth if he sold it.
 
 So he conducted a ritual to transfer the soul to another piece of cloth, and then he sold the piece to Laura Watson Benedict.
 
 And just a side note, Laura Watson Benedict is one of these Americans who contributed greatly to the documentation of our pre-colonial weaving techniques because she was an anthropologist who collected such a great number of these textiles from the South.
 
 Patch: Are they in display anywhere?
 
 Yes, so she actually gave a huge part of this collection to the American Museum of Natural History.
 
 And one other person whose name is Fay Cooper Cole had a vast collection.
 
 And the two of them contributed greatly to the documentation of our textile history in the South.
 
 Just a word of caution though, because remember they were working under the American colonial government.
 
 It may be that some of the classifications that they did or descriptions may not be accurate, right?
 
 Because they're looking at it from the colonial lens.
 
 Carmina: Good point.
 
 But nevertheless, they're available.
 
 And if we can validate or confirm some of their findings, that would be a great exercise.
 
 Right.
 
 The other reason weaving has survived is because it's a portrayal of people's everyday lives.
 
 And they actually associate the colors that they weave with important events.
 
 An example of this is the Ikat designs on Bagobo women's skirts depicting crocodiles.
 
 There were apparently a lot of weavings that showed two-headed crocodiles with curly things around it.
 
 And that's to depict the fact that there are a lot of crocodiles in the region, and the roots are where they like to hide.
 
 And then other weavings also depict leaves of trees and the mountains in their surroundings.
 
 Colors are also very important.
 
 So, the Kalinga textiles, the colors have specific symbols.
 
 Indigo represents the sky, red symbolizes the ground, and yellow signifies wealth, growth, and fertility.
 
 Mountains, birds, lakes, and stars are typical features in these textiles.
 
 So, this is interesting, Patch.
 
 The Bagobo warriors, called Magani, had some kind of grading system of color and clothing, depending on how many lives you talk.
 
 Oh, if you've taken two human lives, you get to wear the Tankulo, which is a fabric made with what's called the Pelangi Technique, which only priestesses were allowed to make.
 
 The fabric has a red-brown background, and it's finished with border of white glass beads, or even pom poms.
 
 And the Pelangi motif is composed of almost entirely small circles with a slightly larger motif in the center that they called a moon.
 
 If you've taken four, you get to wear the matching pants of the same material.
 
 If you've taken six, you are entitled to a full suit.
 
 If you've taken more than twenty, your full suit is black.
 
 So, if you're mostly naked, that means you have not taken any lives.
 
 Well, I mean, they're warriors.
 
 So, but I guess that's a great way to clearly display your prowess as a warrior.
 
 Right.
 
 So, and a lot of, and this is very common among the different groups, fabric or the textile also represents status.
 
 That's very interesting.
 
 There's like a common thread, so to speak.
 
 True.
 
 And like red symbolizes, for this particular tribe at least, it reflects the idea of blood, like the saturation of blood on the clothing.
 
 So amongst all of these cultures, that red shade almost always reflects the idea of a feud or war or some kind of violent pursuit.
 
 And then along these lines, yellow for the Maranao indicates royalty.
 
 So in the olden times, if you wore yellow and you were a commoner, off with your head.
 
 Okay.
 
 Can you imagine someone who didn't know about this and just loves yellow showing up there?
 
 So there's a different consequence to faux pas, fashion faux pas.
 
 Exactly.
 
 And then also in the Maranao, they love displaying flags or banners of different colors to indicate a particular occasion.
 
 They're called streamers in the region, and they're a form of public announcement.
 
 So if you're a visitor, you can apparently tell the mood of the city just by the streamers that are displayed on people's houses or on the streets.
 
 Right.
 
 So it's not only the clothing, the garments that they wear, but what they use these textiles for also as decorative pieces for their dwellings, et cetera.
 
 Right.
 
 It's another form of saying to a visitor, read the room.
 
 Okay.
 
 And then the last reason for why weaving has been preserved is because it's a way for them to preserve their myths.
 
 So there's an epic called Guman, for example, from the Subanon people.
 
 It tells of men who are wounded in battle can be cured by fanning it with a mansala, which is a magnificently embroidered square cloth that they wear over their shoulder.
 
 Another one is the Darangen of the Maranao.
 
 The hero Prince Bantugan uses a brilliant head cloth to dazzle princesses.
 
 And his flirtations apparently are a huge topic in this epic.
 
 I wanted to add also the T'nalak weaving amoung the Tivoli people of Mindanao.
 
 And the T'nalak cloth made from abaca fibers is really highly esteemed.
 
 Primarily practiced by women, the T'nalak weaving is also known as dream weaving.
 
 The weavers believe that their ancestors, guided by the abaca goddess Fudalu, impart visions of the patterns that they are meant to create.
 
 Unlike ordinary dreams that basically disappear when we wake up, these visions are vivid and they endure through the weaving.
 
 These dreams are a gift and they use it in their designs.
 
 Yeah, you know, side note, Patch, the T'nalak of the Tiboli were in the Philippines even before the arrival of the Muslims.
 
 So since you went there, you're mentioning the T'nalak of the Tiboli who are in the Southern Philippines, right?
 
 In Mindanao.
 
 In South Central Mindanao where the Tiboli are, there are actually general techniques that that particular area practice.
 
 There's the Warp Ikat Technique on Abaca fiber.
 
 And Abaca, we should mention, is one of the natural fibers that are important to Philippine textiles, right?
 
 Abaca and Piña is the other one.
 
 We'll talk about Piña a little bit later.
 
 I mean, I've heard Ikat, right?
 
 Not just in the context of Philippine textiles, but in the fashion context, because it really became popular even here in the US.
 
 I thought that Ikat referred to the design, but it's actually a traditional textile technique where threads are dyed before they're woven.
 
 That's the literal meaning of it.
 
 And it comes from the Indonesian word to tie or bind.
 
 So Patch, I came across how tedious this process is, and it makes me appreciate this even more.
 
 So Abaca that we've been mentioning, it's an actual plant.
 
 You strip the long fibers from the pulp of the stems, then it's dried in the sun.
 
 Then it's pounded in a mortar to soften it and increase its flexibility.
 
 But it can't be spun like cotton.
 
 You know how we have cotton gins?
 
 Right.
 
 It must be individually knotted end to end before they can be used in weaving.
 
 And then that's the only time you can really dye that.
 
 After it's died, they arrange it on what's called a body tension or backstrap loom.
 
 And I was like, what does that mean?
 
 What is a body tension or backstrap loom?
 
 I looked it up, Patch.
 
 I can say right now, you and I can't handle it.
 
 Carmina, I already know I can't handle not even the physicality of it, but apparently it takes some mathematical skills to weave these patterns.
 
 Yes.
 
 So I'm out.
 
 I encourage you and the listeners to look it up because there's not a lot of these backstrap looms in existence anymore, but it really displays how much stamina like mentally and physically you have to have.
 
 Okay, Carmina.
 
 So the other type of loom that is very popular in Philippine culture is the use of the pedal loom.
 
 Some cultures call it pangablan.
 
 Yeah, so that pedal loom was likely introduced in the Philippines in the Spanish colonial period.
 
 And as you can imagine, right, it probably is easier to maneuver and to operate.
 
 Because for the backstrap loom, you had to use your body to operate it, because the other name for it is the body tension loom.
 
 So they really didn't need to go to the gym.
 
 They already had.
 
 Yes, because they're large.
 
 They're really huge.
 
 So back to the Abaca.
 
 The dyes that they used are natural dyes from trees or leaves of trees.
 
 And then after the Abaca is hand-woven, they're polished to give it its shine.
 
 And they do this with a piece of seashell, cuttlefish bone or other hard material.
 
 They press the shell against the fabric that's held very taut.
 
 And sometimes they also apply beeswax.
 
 And just to put a finer point on the complexity of this.
 
 So the Tiboli whose e-cut cloth is distinct because it has a more complex color scheme, the fibers are dyed black first.
 
 Then some of the knots are removed and then dyed red.
 
 And then the finished product has this three color scheme, the black, the red, and the natural color of the abaca, all in the same strand.
 
 So when it's finally woven, all these colors appear.
 
 Wow.
 
 And obviously, for them to produce these colors consistently takes a lot of skill, right?
 
 It really does.
 
 And apparently, when you eavesdrop in some of these communities who do this type of weaving, their bragging rights are how many knots it takes to produce a certain pattern.
 
 I just wanted to add, since we were talking about dyes, these weavers used natural dyes that were made from plants, one of which would be the leaves of the tawa.
 
 Tawa plant, for example, which is also used in their medicines.
 
 They basically boil these leaves and fruits to produce these vivid colors.
 
 Some of the other fruits and plants that they use, the taro root or the gabi, some parts of the tamarind tree, very diverse uses of these plants and fruits that normally we would think are only for eating, but they're used in so many ways.
 
 Okay, Patch.
 
 So, the most important Muslim weaving groups in the southern region are the Maguindanao, the Maranao, the Tausug and the Yakan because of the preservation of their traditions and the deep connection of their weaving with their identity and heritage.
 
 And their techniques and styles are distinctly Muslim Filipino.
 
 The Maguindanao and Maranaos are two of the most populous Muslim groups.
 
 And the most popular piece of clothing from these tribes is the Malong, which is the tube-shaped skirt.
 
 I must admit, I was kind of confused between the Malong and the Patadjong, and then there's the Sarong.
 
 Ah, yeah.
 
 So they're very similar.
 
 I guess it depends on which region we are talking about.
 
 But similar to this tube-like clothing, the style of clothing we're talking about is the Patadjong, which is considered both the fabric and the style of clothing.
 
 That is tube-like wrap-around skirt, traditionally worn both by men and women in the Visayas Islands this time.
 
 These are the fabrics made from cotton and abaca, and they feature these distinctive checkered patterns that we always see around, you know, when people think about Philippine costume.
 
 We have these checkered patterns in clothing, and that's very much what the patterns are for the Patadjong.
 
 It's not used only for the skirts, but they use it for the scarves, for shawls, and even for practical uses.
 
 They use it for protection under the sun, for carrying fruits and vegetables.
 
 So we're not only talking about something that you use for clothing, but really very much a part of everyday life.
 
 Yeah, and I guess that's an important thing to mention, right?
 
 So even though they look similar, the Patadjong and the Malong hold different symbolism.
 
 For the Muslim Filipinos are associated with stages in life.
 
 There are also versions of it that you can use in everyday life.
 
 And the fabric that's used for the Malong depends on why they're wearing it.
 
 So for the more practical uses, it's made of Abaca and cotton probably.
 
 And then for the more ceremonial ones, they use the special fabrics.
 
 Patch, the Moro now have developed a vocabulary of naming over 100 different styles of Malong.
 
 Oh, wow.
 
 There's over 100 different styles.
 
 Yeah, and you shouldn't worry, and the listeners shouldn't worry that I will mention all of them, but I found a grouping.
 
 Okay.
 
 The most valued type is the Malong Aan Don, which is usually of magenta, silk, and another fascinating fact, when the decorations are based on Indian trade textiles.
 
 This is only worn by women.
 
 Then there's the Malong A Landap.
 
 The color scheme is alternating bands of yellow and magenta.
 
 And then a third type called Malong Abogada, which is composed of broad bands of contrasting colors.
 
 And the Bagdat in the name refers to the beaded structure of the design.
 
 And Patch, I just want to devote a few minutes to the Tausug.
 
 The Tausug women are among the most accomplished weavers in the Philippines.
 
 And that's because they were exposed to many fabrics because of the extensive trading that was done in that area.
 
 Not just with the Chinese and other Asian countries, but the Europeans as well.
 
 Their special items are Kambut, which is the men's waist sash.
 
 The pis, which is a men's shoulder cloth or head cloth.
 
 And like you mentioned, the Patadiong, which is the tube-shaped fabric.
 
 They use a tapestry technique, which is the main feature of their weaving.
 
 And it's apparently credited to the influence of the Chinese textile trade.
 
 Their patterns are also described as rigidly geometric, and they're derived from the Indian mandala, which gives it a very spiritual dimension because it's what's said to be reflected in the pattern.
 
 So because we were trading a lot with a lot of these other foreign countries, it's really important to recognize that, in some of these weaving techniques and material, that there's that influence of the trade that made its way into it.
 
 So Patch, now that we've explored the cell, how about the center where the Tagalogs are?
 
 Yes, so we have to admit, Philippine culture is very centrist, so to speak, to the Tagalog culture.
 
 And as we know, it's very popular for us to have our Barong Tagalogs and all of that is made from the pinas.
 
 Pinas is literally translated for people who don't know pineapple.
 
 And when you think of the pineapple, you wouldn't really think that that could be turned into something you could wear.
 
 Right.
 
 So pineapples were introduced to the Philippines by the Spanish in the 16th century.
 
 And the development of the pinas fabric obviously followed soon after.
 
 It's believed that this became possible because local inhabitants already had a long tradition of weaving fabric, like what we talked about, right?
 
 Weaving fabric from plant fiber specifically.
 
 And so adapting the technique of creating these fibers from pineapple leaves was not a stretch.
 
 So the specific pineapple variety used for the pinas fabric is the small, very hardy, red Spanish pineapple, which has long leaves, and that's why it's very popular to use for this particular fiber.
 
 And the process is very labor-intensive.
 
 It involves extracting the fibers from the pineapple leaves, washing and drying them, and hand-knotting the fibers to form threads, very similar to what you described earlier.
 
 So the piña fabric enjoyed what they called the golden age during the late 18th and 19th century, and became an industry in the island of Panay.
 
 It also became a luxury export from the Philippines during the Spanish colonial period, and it gained a lot of favor in the European aristocracy.
 
 For example, Carmina, it was believed that for King Alfonso XIII, it was a baptismal gown, also a handkerchief given as a wedding gift to Princess Alexandra of Denmark.
 
 We know, of course, that the piña is used in our traditional garments like the Barong Tagalog and the Barot Saya.
 
 Patch, what do you think about all of these adaptations of the Barong Tagalog that I'm seeing proliferating online?
 
 I mean, I think it's a good thing, because it keeps us connected still to our traditions.
 
 We're finding ways to modernize it, but there's nothing necessarily wrong with that.
 
 I've seen also it being used for like hoodies.
 
 Hoodies.
 
 Very interesting, yeah, the concept of it.
 
 So it's a way to appeal to the Filipino-American audience and infuse the culture at the same time.
 
 Okay, so now that we've covered the middle of the country, why don't we go all the way north?
 
 And the next topic that I wanted to talk about is the inabel.
 
 And the word inabel is derived from the generic Ilocano term abel.
 
 Again, been using these words all my life, didn't realize there was a specific meaning.
 
 Abel is a generic term for a handloom woven cloth, and it can also mean the setup of yarns that are being worked on, a handloom.
 
 And then inabel is the precise term for the woven cloth made on that Ilocano loom, strictly made from cotton.
 
 And it's distinct from other textiles, cotton, because it's sturdy, and the inabel fabrics are of simple design and has very practical functions.
 
 And Patch, I can speak to the sturdiness part, because my parents actually received a customized inabel blanket for their wedding.
 
 Oh, I think you mentioned that to me before.
 
 Do they still have it?
 
 My mom was using it until recently, but I just confiscated it.
 
 Because imagine this blanket is older than me.
 
 And so now I've stored it for safekeeping after this research that we've done, and after realizing how precious it is.
 
 When you said older than you, I was going to say, that's really old.
 
 And then I realized, we're the same age.
 
 I'm even older than you, I think by a year.
 
 But anyway.
 
 Yes.
 
 But imagine, Patch, she was still using it.
 
 One day I'm just like, nope, not anymore.
 
 That just is proof of how sturdy and the good quality of these fabrics are, right?
 
 So these blankets are called ules in Ilocano, and they're not really just for practical use, but you know, like I'm proving right now, they're heirloom pieces that are passed on for generations.
 
 And these blankets are made of multiple panels and are hand stitched together.
 
 And again, for special occasions, they are embroidered.
 
 So my mom's blanket has the Mr. and Mrs. designation and then my father's name.
 
 Wow.
 
 They're used for many occasions.
 
 And there's a special one for childbirth, another finer one for a newborn.
 
 It's also used as a birthday gift for rites of passage, like adolescents.
 
 The pattern that's most commonly used for weddings is the ik-ikan, or kissing fish, and another one called the kundiman, because they signify fertility.
 
 And since my parents had three kids, I guess the blanket worked.
 
 So like I mentioned previously, Ilocos is the birthplace of Inabelle, and it's located in northwest Luzon.
 
 Do you remember Lam Ang, Patch?
 
 Yeah.
 
 So Lam Ang is the subject of an Ilocano epic.
 
 And the epic is significant because it's really not just a story about him.
 
 It also had a lot of depictions of the clothes and gold ornaments that are worn by our hero Lam Ang and his lady love, Lady Kanoyan.
 
 And Lady Kanoyan is a weaver.
 
 And it's basically elevating the weaving to the warcraft.
 
 So I really thought that that's a very important symbolism.
 
 So Lady Kanoyan, one of her bragging rights is the ability to weave nine skeins of yarn in an evening.
 
 They happened to mention if this was the backstrap looming technique.
 
 Because that's intense.
 
 Well, in Ilocano, because it's cotton, right?
 
 I think they used the pedal loom.
 
 So the epic is full of descriptions of how these characters dressed when they met each other, and of course, the highlight, the wedding.
 
 There was tons and tons of description of what they wore.
 
 So Patch Ilocos during the pre-colonial period already had, like, you know, Mindanao, had a lot of trade with other countries.
 
 They were trading with China, Japan, India, and the rest of Southeast Asia.
 
 And because Ilocos has a long coast with many coves, it became a natural port of call for trade.
 
 The Ilocanos traded in a bell in exchange for gold, ceramics, and beads.
 
 And the quality of the cotton was so renowned and sturdy that it was in demand worldwide.
 
 It wasn't just used for clothing, but also became the material for sales of the galleon and even military uniforms during the Spanish colonial period.
 
 So since I devoted some time, Patch, to talking about the abaca and how it gets turned from the plant to the fiber, I didn't want to leave out the cotton.
 
 So let me just very quickly go through the process of how cotton is converted to fiber.
 
 Okay.
 
 So you pick the cotton balls, then you remove the seeds using a cotton gin.
 
 Then you pound or beat the cotton using lagundi sticks.
 
 And lagundi, if you recognize, is a native shrub and it's strong but flexible, which is why it's used in this process.
 
 Then you twist the cotton using the spindle.
 
 Then you wind it into the skeiner.
 
 Then you brush the yarn to make it durable and glossy.
 
 Then you wind the yarn to the bamboo spool.
 
 And then you wind it into the warping reel for warping.
 
 Then you wind the warped yarn into the warped beam rod.
 
 Then you insert the warped yarn through the heddle eye using a weaver's hook.
 
 Then you insert the warped yarn through spaces of the reed with the use of the weaver's hook.
 
 And then you dress the loom to tie the heddles behind the beater.
 
 And then you interlock the vertical yarn called the warp, which is known as gan-ay in Ilocos, and the horizontal yarns called the weft, known as pakan.
 
 Then you can start weaving.
 
 So in other words, just two steps, right?
 
 Yeah, just two plus ten.
 
 And I just wanted to mention some popular types of weaves.
 
 There's the plain weave called the liniston.
 
 It's the stripes technique.
 
 So Patch, you might remember the common designs we see on blankets of single, double, or triple color band combinations on a white background.
 
 And the particular technique is called banderado.
 
 And then there's the kinocuros, or the plaid textiles.
 
 There's the brocade weave, also called the pinilian, and the designs and patterns kind of float on the surface of the cloth.
 
 I'm sure you've seen these designs, where there's like a tactile feel to it.
 
 Then there's the inkaot or insukit, which are inlaid designs, and it's a variation of the brocade weave.
 
 So basically, Patch, they have these open sheds in the fabric, and the weaver is able to insert additional yarns with her fingers.
 
 Because, you know, the process that I talked about earlier wasn't hard enough.
 
 Right.
 
 They had to make it more.
 
 Extra layer, so to speak.
 
 Exactly.
 
 And the common designs are human figures, crabs, fishes, and the Gik Gik, which is a double-headed, yellow-legged bird or chicken.
 
 Not to be confused with Big Bird.
 
 You know, this figure is very significant because it was believed to be a vessel for spirits, and it was also featured in Lam Ang's epic because he was a pet, apparently, a supernatural pet.
 
 They also have their own version of the ikat called Rinimasan, and it's a Thai dyeing technique.
 
 And then lastly, which is also very popular and associated with Inabel is the Binakol.
 
 And it usually comes in black and white, green and white, blue and white, or red and white.
 
 The most popular design is the kusikus, which means whirlpool in English, or alipugpug, which is whirlwind in English.
 
 The Ilocanos believed that these whirlpool or whirlwind designs were used by sailors to appease the wind gods.
 
 So Patch, we didn't even scratch the surface because there's so much, so much to talk about.
 
 But I think it's also important to recognize that they're struggling to survive against the mass production that's currently going on in the textile industry.
 
 It's really a dying tradition.
 
 Well, and we can understand why.
 
 Because the process of extracting the fiber and then the intricate details of weaving.
 
 So it's really very complicated, time consuming, very skill based industry.
 
 So it's pretty obvious why there would be a struggle now.
 
 Yeah, and it's sometimes not even economically viable, especially for the young people who are frankly in a lot of places in the world, not just the Philippines, are just trying to survive.
 
 Not to mention the modernization, because we did say that a lot of the culture in weaving has to do with the traditions, the beliefs, and a lot of those things are dying as well.
 
 Well, thankfully, there are organizations in the Philippines who are trying to help with this.
 
 One of them is HABI, the textile council of the Philippines.
 
 It was established in 2009.
 
 It's a non-governmental organization, and their mission statement is to preserve, promote, and enhance Philippine textiles through education, communication, and research using public and private resources.
 
 And they do this through many activities like annual market fairs, webinars, and lectures, competitions, and direct support to weaving communities.
 
 And HABI, a lot of their work right now is in the South.
 
 In the north, there's a place called Balay ni Atong.
 
 It's another organization, and it houses the study center for traditional hand-woven textiles.
 
 It's in Ilocos, and it's focused on the Inabel.
 
 It also works with weaving communities, including the Tinguian and Itneg tribes, to continue the tradition.
 
 And even here in the US, Filipino Americans are also doing their part.
 
 I came across the UCLA's Ifugao Community Heritage Galleries and the Ifugao Archaeological Project.
 
 The origin stories of these two organizations are inspiring because they were championed by UCLA alumni who are Filipino Americans and who also have Ifugao heritage.
 
 These organizations are trying to actively keep the Ifugao heritage alive through local community galleries and archaeological digs.
 
 And they're also shifting the educational paradigm by training teachers how to look at their culture from a different perspective that's more oriented to their community.
 
 Because to your point earlier, right, we're very centrist, and the people in Luzon, the Tagalogs, are dominant.
 
 So we have to give space for these indigenous tribes to be able to tell their own stories without the majority dictating what it should be.
 
 We also are very happy to learn about the younger generation of fashion designers who are incorporating a lot of these different textiles and also styles in their designs, both in the Philippines and Filipinos around the world.
 
 So that's also a good thing.
 
 One other challenge encountered by our weavers is climate change.
 
 It poses a challenge not only because of the production, but also they get fewer customers and fewer tourists who visit these regions to purchase all of these crafts, right?
 
 So climate change also I wanted to add as one of the struggles.
 
 And then I wanted to end with cultural appropriation as one of the current issues.
 
 So we earlier talked about adapting the baron, for example, right, in streetwear.
 
 But there are uses of our traditional textiles that frankly are misappropriations.
 
 We should call it that because when things become fashionable, sometimes people propagate the quote unquote fashion part of it without realizing the cultural significance.
 
 Yeah, we have to remain sensitive to that, to your point, because as we've established earlier, textiles play an essential role in rights, right?
 
 You mentioned wedding, ceremonial uses.
 
 Also, some of them are used for burial.
 
 We have to be very sensitive to all of this when we use our textiles and garments in modern day.
 
 We have to take a look at the cultural appropriation.
 
 We still need to respect the original intent of a lot of these patterns and textiles.
 
 So I found this article that we're going to list in our show notes from Tatler that lists three examples of when someone is wearing or using indigenous textiles irresponsibly.
 
 So the first is when the wearer claims a culture to be his or hers when it isn't.
 
 The second is when the wearer has no knowledge or context of cultural property.
 
 And third, when there is an act of disrespect.
 
 So Patch, reflect on yourself.
 
 And I do urge our listeners to do the same.
 
 It was such an insightful and eye-opening journey for me to research about this topic.
 
 And I'm so glad we decided to talk about it.
 
 Me too.
 
 And I think there's so many other things to talk about.
 
 Maybe we can have more conversations about it in the future.
 
 And that's our episode.
 
 We hope you join us on our next trip.
 
 Oh, siya, siya.

Ingat.
 
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