Utang na Loob

A Filipino value that's consistently battling with my two identities.

There’s a value in Filipino culture called “Utang na Loob,” which quite literally translates to “a debt of one's inner self.”

If it sounds pretty intense, it’s because it is.

While the Western concept of owing a favor is much more lighthearted and quantifiable (you gave me a ride to school, I give you one back), “Utang na Loob” goes much deeper.

This, coupled with other values like “hiya” (humility/dignity), “pakikisama” (companionship), and “kapwa” (shared personhood or shared self) is the perfect storm of creating a culture of people who accommodate the needs and demands of the world around them.

Filipinos are known to be some of the kindest people in the world—even Anthony Bourdain, in an episode of Parts Unknown, once asked, “why are so many Filipinos so damn caring?”

At times, I’ve felt proud of my ability to be kind, be humble, be caring, give back. But it’s one of the values that’s beginning to—if not already—destroy my sense of self, individuality, and ability to make decisions.

Even as I write this out, I feel a sense of shame in thinking of myself as an individual, someone outside of the collective, or the kapwa.

---

I’ve been seeing a new therapist lately who drags me within an inch of my life every time we meet (and it’s only been three times).

We’ve been exploring the idea of responsibility, and how from as long as I can remember, I’ve operated from a place of responsibility, versus a place of want.

From an early age, it was ingrained in me to work hard, get good grades, make the best choices, be successful. My parents believed that getting a good education is the most important thing in the world.

They worked hard to put us through a good school in the Philippines—and eventually made the decision to move to the United States, specifically Massachusetts, to receive the best possible public school education. If you know me or have read some of my writing, you know my family’s (particularly my parents’) struggle as immigrants in a new country, navigating a new normal, financial and immigration roadblocks.

They sacrificed a lot for my siblings and I. My parents uprooted their lives at 49 and 50 years old. They left their home country, their jobs, comforts, friends, and family (they went almost two decades without seeing their own siblings).

And there’s never a day I’m not grateful for what they did—the unconditional love is palpable. So it’s no surprise Utang na Loob follows me wherever I go, planting itself comfortably in the crevices of my brain.

Everything I did, everything I do, I do for the good of the family. The concept of “want” is a foreign concept when it comes to the kapwa.

---

Lately, I’ve been thinking: Who am I without this relentless need to be responsible? To give back, to pay a debt I cannot possibly pay?

I tie my entire identity to being a good daughter to my parents. A good sister to my siblings. A good worker for my boss. A good boss for my team. Someone you can always rely on, someone who does more than is asked, because I have a huge debt to pay.

What I once saw was an admirable trait is wearing me down to the ground.

It allowed for me to gain success in my own metrics— I have a warm home, I can feed myself, and can even go out to eat when I want, I have a loving partner, healthy family, cat, and dog—but I need to release its grip, even just a little bit.

But on the flip side, it’s made me overly self-conscious, self-critical, and making decisions based on conforming to the wants and needs of others around me. I adjust how I act, what I think, what I do to ensure the happiness of others.

---

Meanwhile, I exist in a world where I scroll through dozens of TikTok videos of people encouraging to protect my peace. Set boundaries. Take care of yourself first. Get your bag. Fuck the rest.

It’s exhausting to live between these worlds, to feel like you’re constantly failing at both sides.

To make decisions and plans based on what the family needs on the weekends, considering everyone’s opinions, once, twice, three times—then have to switch to Girlbossing on the weekdays, where my constant feedback across the board has always been to speak up, be more decisive.

To go for my dreams, travel, buy things I couldn’t dream of affording when I was a kid, instead of seeing those things as frivolous and saving fervently for the future of the family.

I began to villainize Utang na Loob.

---

Until just about a month ago, when I went home to the Philippines for 14 days, many of which were spent on a beach vacation.

My aunts, uncles, and cousins planned for months for 3 nights of seeing one another, starting group threads, making reservations, driving several hours, changing plans to see us for even an hour or two. My cousin, who was flying to New York the next day, brought us water bottles to each room we were staying in. Drove some of us to the airport. Took us to breakfast in the mornings.

Everything was planned for—every meal, mode of transportation, lodging, you name it. One of my other cousins even went so far as to make ice out of bottled water with my dad, bring it to the bar, and ask the bartenders to make us drinks with them.

My family may have moved from the Philippines to the U.S. 23 years ago—but they made sure it didn’t feel like it. I have never experienced that level of love, care, kapwa.

It brought a new meaning to Utang na Loob to me.

What I once saw as shameful from a Western gaze turned into a prized value that no one can take away from me. In my every day bullshit of stress, appointments, emails, messages, it reminded me of who I am, where I come from, and who I inherited it from. It gives me purpose.

It reminds me that my deep empathy, understanding of others, care for people I don’t even know, and never-ending humanity are traits I would never be ashamed of again. That I don’t need to be more selfish, cut throat, or tough.

I just need to be called back to my family, my roots. I just need to be me.