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Cross-Indigenous Dialogue to Bridge Cultural Differences
It seems that, for many people, a “dialogue” looks a lot like an argument, where someone wins based on invisible, yet implicit, ethical standards. This seems to be especially true in discussions on cultural identity and appropriation, where gatekeepers (not culture-bearers) impose very clear boundaries.
Cultures do not have strict boundaries; many borrow (or take) stories and technologies from each other. Something can only ever be fully defined when it is not moving, but that would mean that it is dead. Culture is the current in a river of shared humanity, ever living, ever flowing.
What, then, can it look like to affirm and respect differences, while acknowledging the humanity that connects us all?

Creating Differences
In our attempt to understand the world, we end up endlessly categorizing things into one or the other. In both the scientific arena and the sociopolitical sphere, we have become aware of hierarchies, dichotomies, and differences. In our criticism of certain structures, we are not truly dismantling them; rather, we are constantly affirming them. Even within my field, there is a tendency to contrast indigenous, non-Western values to Western values, usually to show how morally superior we are to the corrupt and hollow West. The most this says is that we value different things, not necessarily that one is better than the other. After all, Western values are indigenous to Western culture in the sense that they evolved through their own history and geopolitical affairs.
As it is popularly understood, a major difference between Western and Eastern cultures is that the former is more individualistic, and the latter more collectivistic. Mindless interaction between the two has been, for better or worse, either by fetish or fear. That there are “individualistic” and “collectivistic” cultures is one of the lazier generalizations in cross-cultural psychology. Furthermore, it has nothing to do whatsoever with geographical location: many cultures in South America are community-oriented, whereas many people from industrialized cultures in Eastern Asia are more ambitious and isolated. When we speak, therefore, of “West” and “East” (or even, Global North and Global South), we are not talking literally; we are talking philosophically.
I was born and raised as a Filipino, so this essay comes from my perspective, shaped by the culture I have gotten used to. It is a Filipino perspective, but it is not the essential or foundational one. But let us be clear: culture is not bound by one’s nationality. There is no singular “American” culture any more than there is a singular “Filipino” or “Japanese” or “Italian” culture. When we say that some people are more or less “Filipino,” we are not setting them against the standards of a culture, but against the standards of a nation, which is an imagined geopolitical thing—and this is largely shaped by the agendas of those in power.
Within what we know as the United States, there are many cultures, and even within a group such as “Asian-Americans,” there are still more varied cultures depending on one’s heritage. Within the Philippines, there are many cultural dichotomies (hating kultural), each representing various social locations by birth, affiliation, or socioeconomic status: taga-lungsod (urban) and taga-probinsya (rural), burgis (elite), and bakya (masses), Kristiyano (Christian, but more generally referring to lowlanders), and katutubo (Indigenous People). There are also nuances by group and by family, which are often lazily described by outsiders in terms of stereotypes.
So, when we refer to “culture,” we are actually just talking about adaptive differences shaped by biology, geography, and history. This applies to small groups, but also to groups that come together. Cultural heritage is how we have survived and decorated the places we call home. Language and fashion develop based on what is useful to us. For example, we Filipinos do not have a native word for snow—we borrow the Spanish nieve—because it does not snow here. However, we do have many words for rice at all stages of its household use, even for when it is past its freshness. We are also shaped by our interactions with other cultures, either by imposition or assimilation.
Much has already been said about the colonial history of the Philippines, and about how many foreign standards are still imposed today. This is true in economics and politics, but also in smaller, everyday things. For example, in Metro Manila, where the thick concrete absorbs the heat of the tropical sun, warm jackets are worn to signify status and coolness. Colonial mentality is often impractical. That said, as writer Nick Joaquin pointed out in Culture and History, many technologies that we enjoy today were brought in through trade and colonization—this includes our modes of transportation, cooking techniques, the printing press, etc. Adobo, the jeepney, and the Barong Tagalog are distinctly “Filipino” even though they are of foreign origin.
There is also much to talk about regarding the interplay of various cultures, and how each one manifests in various places. We can see this in the experience of immigrants everywhere (there are millions of Filipinos living and working abroad), the dominance of Manila-centric ideologies across the varied regional cultures of the Philippines, the enduring hospitality of locals to even the rudest foreigner, and so on. We engage in intercultural dialogue wherever we go, even without leaving our place of residence. In fact, we are allied with each other despite all our differences because we are all human. And so, instead of imposing what has worked for us, it would do us well to learn the many ways of living in the world.
Learning to Listen
Our divisiveness today is rooted in the same human tendency that led to capitalism, totalitarianism, and colonialism, that is, a mindset characterized by kaniya-kaniya (to each their own). Even with good intentions toward collective liberation and indigenization, we might enter haphazardly into the territory of ethnocentrism, xenophobia, and jingoism.
When we view the “colonizer” only as a dangerous foreigner, we tend to ignore the colonizer within, which is the tendency we all have to enter without consent (panghihimasok) and to take without permission (pananakop).
What might it look like to move from the possession and ownership of culture, land, and power to collaboration, stewardship, and mutual flourishing?
As an antidote to harmful social conditioning, we can revisit the intuitive and indigenous. At the core of Philippine folk psychology is a recognition that we are part of a larger whole, not as a singular thing, but as an interplay of interconnected yet beautifully diverse parts. This is most popularly known as Kapwa, a Filipino term that refers to a common identity and a sense of belongingness. The Ilokano concept of Nakem also stands out, as it refers to the relationship of one’s interiority to the larger ecology of people, nature, and spirits. At the meeting of self and other, we see that, despite our differences, we grow from the same earth. It is, as the Bisaya would say, our Kahimtang, our place and shared condition.
Now, if we seek to engage in genuine dialogue across cultural differences within and beyond nations, we can revisit an interesting approach from the Philippine indigenization movements. It is called the kros-katutubo or cross-indigenous approach. The idea is simple: instead of treating other cultures as targets for analysis and domination, we treat them as sources of wisdom. “Indigenous” simply refers to whatever emerges naturally from a particular culture, and so a cross-indigenous approach is essentially a round table, with everyone welcome to sit in. Each of us becomes a culture-bearer. This is relevant in ethical and collaborative social science research (as opposed to exploitative and agenda-driven research), but it is also useful in everyday conversations. This is, fundamentally, an application of Kapwa philosophy. If we are to encourage multicultural diversity, this approach can be incredibly valuable and nourishing.
With respect to the great scholars who came before me, such as Virgilio Enriquez, Rogelia Pe-Pua, and all other critical Kapwa-oriented researchers locally and globally, here are a few important principles for Kros-Katutubo Dialogue:
-
When faced with something or someone new, welcome it or them as an opportunity to recognize a different aspect of your own personhood. Feel with them, be mindful of their moods, and carefully adjust your manners depending on whether something seems appropriate to do or say.
-
Remember that, even if someone is a stranger, they are still knowledgeable in their own way; they have their own life experiences, and they have much to teach you. Be open to this.
-
Do not be quick to sell or expose the knowledge you receive. Your first thought must be whether what you do with this new knowledge will benefit the other. And, if you do have the opportunity to share what you learn, let it be affirmed by them, to ensure that you truly understand.
We do not have to “go native” to understand a different culture, but working with local communities can help us develop our fluency in Kros-Katutubo Dialogue. In this age of information, we are constantly in connection with various cultures around the world, and despite the anonymity and scatteredness of our online spheres, there is the potential to practice intercultural dialogue. In the midst of global confusion and polarization, Kros-Katutubo Dialogue can help bridge divides and guide us toward a collective understanding of the planet we all call home.
{
"article":
{
"title" : "Cross-Indigenous Dialogue to Bridge Cultural Differences",
"author" : "Carl Lorenz Cervantes",
"category" : "essays",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/cross-indigenous-dialogue-bridge-cultural-differences",
"date" : "2025-06-14 14:26:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/cervantes-phillipines.jpg",
"excerpt" : "It seems that, for many people, a “dialogue” looks a lot like an argument, where someone wins based on invisible, yet implicit, ethical standards. This seems to be especially true in discussions on cultural identity and appropriation, where gatekeepers (not culture-bearers) impose very clear boundaries.",
"content" : "It seems that, for many people, a “dialogue” looks a lot like an argument, where someone wins based on invisible, yet implicit, ethical standards. This seems to be especially true in discussions on cultural identity and appropriation, where gatekeepers (not culture-bearers) impose very clear boundaries. Cultures do not have strict boundaries; many borrow (or take) stories and technologies from each other. Something can only ever be fully defined when it is not moving, but that would mean that it is dead. Culture is the current in a river of shared humanity, ever living, ever flowing.What, then, can it look like to affirm and respect differences, while acknowledging the humanity that connects us all?Creating DifferencesIn our attempt to understand the world, we end up endlessly categorizing things into one or the other. In both the scientific arena and the sociopolitical sphere, we have become aware of hierarchies, dichotomies, and differences. In our criticism of certain structures, we are not truly dismantling them; rather, we are constantly affirming them. Even within my field, there is a tendency to contrast indigenous, non-Western values to Western values, usually to show how morally superior we are to the corrupt and hollow West. The most this says is that we value different things, not necessarily that one is better than the other. After all, Western values are indigenous to Western culture in the sense that they evolved through their own history and geopolitical affairs.As it is popularly understood, a major difference between Western and Eastern cultures is that the former is more individualistic, and the latter more collectivistic. Mindless interaction between the two has been, for better or worse, either by fetish or fear. That there are “individualistic” and “collectivistic” cultures is one of the lazier generalizations in cross-cultural psychology. Furthermore, it has nothing to do whatsoever with geographical location: many cultures in South America are community-oriented, whereas many people from industrialized cultures in Eastern Asia are more ambitious and isolated. When we speak, therefore, of “West” and “East” (or even, Global North and Global South), we are not talking literally; we are talking philosophically.I was born and raised as a Filipino, so this essay comes from my perspective, shaped by the culture I have gotten used to. It is a Filipino perspective, but it is not the essential or foundational one. But let us be clear: culture is not bound by one’s nationality. There is no singular “American” culture any more than there is a singular “Filipino” or “Japanese” or “Italian” culture. When we say that some people are more or less “Filipino,” we are not setting them against the standards of a culture, but against the standards of a nation, which is an imagined geopolitical thing—and this is largely shaped by the agendas of those in power.Within what we know as the United States, there are many cultures, and even within a group such as “Asian-Americans,” there are still more varied cultures depending on one’s heritage. Within the Philippines, there are many cultural dichotomies (hating kultural), each representing various social locations by birth, affiliation, or socioeconomic status: taga-lungsod (urban) and taga-probinsya (rural), burgis (elite), and bakya (masses), Kristiyano (Christian, but more generally referring to lowlanders), and katutubo (Indigenous People). There are also nuances by group and by family, which are often lazily described by outsiders in terms of stereotypes.So, when we refer to “culture,” we are actually just talking about adaptive differences shaped by biology, geography, and history. This applies to small groups, but also to groups that come together. Cultural heritage is how we have survived and decorated the places we call home. Language and fashion develop based on what is useful to us. For example, we Filipinos do not have a native word for snow—we borrow the Spanish nieve—because it does not snow here. However, we do have many words for rice at all stages of its household use, even for when it is past its freshness. We are also shaped by our interactions with other cultures, either by imposition or assimilation.Much has already been said about the colonial history of the Philippines, and about how many foreign standards are still imposed today. This is true in economics and politics, but also in smaller, everyday things. For example, in Metro Manila, where the thick concrete absorbs the heat of the tropical sun, warm jackets are worn to signify status and coolness. Colonial mentality is often impractical. That said, as writer Nick Joaquin pointed out in Culture and History, many technologies that we enjoy today were brought in through trade and colonization—this includes our modes of transportation, cooking techniques, the printing press, etc. Adobo, the jeepney, and the Barong Tagalog are distinctly “Filipino” even though they are of foreign origin.There is also much to talk about regarding the interplay of various cultures, and how each one manifests in various places. We can see this in the experience of immigrants everywhere (there are millions of Filipinos living and working abroad), the dominance of Manila-centric ideologies across the varied regional cultures of the Philippines, the enduring hospitality of locals to even the rudest foreigner, and so on. We engage in intercultural dialogue wherever we go, even without leaving our place of residence. In fact, we are allied with each other despite all our differences because we are all human. And so, instead of imposing what has worked for us, it would do us well to learn the many ways of living in the world.Learning to ListenOur divisiveness today is rooted in the same human tendency that led to capitalism, totalitarianism, and colonialism, that is, a mindset characterized by kaniya-kaniya (to each their own). Even with good intentions toward collective liberation and indigenization, we might enter haphazardly into the territory of ethnocentrism, xenophobia, and jingoism. When we view the “colonizer” only as a dangerous foreigner, we tend to ignore the colonizer within, which is the tendency we all have to enter without consent (panghihimasok) and to take without permission (pananakop).What might it look like to move from the possession and ownership of culture, land, and power to collaboration, stewardship, and mutual flourishing?As an antidote to harmful social conditioning, we can revisit the intuitive and indigenous. At the core of Philippine folk psychology is a recognition that we are part of a larger whole, not as a singular thing, but as an interplay of interconnected yet beautifully diverse parts. This is most popularly known as Kapwa, a Filipino term that refers to a common identity and a sense of belongingness. The Ilokano concept of Nakem also stands out, as it refers to the relationship of one’s interiority to the larger ecology of people, nature, and spirits. At the meeting of self and other, we see that, despite our differences, we grow from the same earth. It is, as the Bisaya would say, our Kahimtang, our place and shared condition.Now, if we seek to engage in genuine dialogue across cultural differences within and beyond nations, we can revisit an interesting approach from the Philippine indigenization movements. It is called the kros-katutubo or cross-indigenous approach. The idea is simple: instead of treating other cultures as targets for analysis and domination, we treat them as sources of wisdom. “Indigenous” simply refers to whatever emerges naturally from a particular culture, and so a cross-indigenous approach is essentially a round table, with everyone welcome to sit in. Each of us becomes a culture-bearer. This is relevant in ethical and collaborative social science research (as opposed to exploitative and agenda-driven research), but it is also useful in everyday conversations. This is, fundamentally, an application of Kapwa philosophy. If we are to encourage multicultural diversity, this approach can be incredibly valuable and nourishing.With respect to the great scholars who came before me, such as Virgilio Enriquez, Rogelia Pe-Pua, and all other critical Kapwa-oriented researchers locally and globally, here are a few important principles for Kros-Katutubo Dialogue: When faced with something or someone new, welcome it or them as an opportunity to recognize a different aspect of your own personhood. Feel with them, be mindful of their moods, and carefully adjust your manners depending on whether something seems appropriate to do or say. Remember that, even if someone is a stranger, they are still knowledgeable in their own way; they have their own life experiences, and they have much to teach you. Be open to this. Do not be quick to sell or expose the knowledge you receive. Your first thought must be whether what you do with this new knowledge will benefit the other. And, if you do have the opportunity to share what you learn, let it be affirmed by them, to ensure that you truly understand. We do not have to “go native” to understand a different culture, but working with local communities can help us develop our fluency in Kros-Katutubo Dialogue. In this age of information, we are constantly in connection with various cultures around the world, and despite the anonymity and scatteredness of our online spheres, there is the potential to practice intercultural dialogue. In the midst of global confusion and polarization, Kros-Katutubo Dialogue can help bridge divides and guide us toward a collective understanding of the planet we all call home."
}
,
"relatedposts": [
{
"title" : "Black Liberation Views on Palestine",
"author" : "EIP Editors",
"category" : "essays",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/black-liberation-on-palestine",
"date" : "2025-10-17 09:01:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/mandela-keffiyeh.jpg",
"excerpt" : "",
"content" : "In understanding global politics, it is important to look at Black liberation struggles as one important source of moral perspective. So, when looking at Palestine, we look to Black leaders to see how they perceived the Palestinian struggle in relation to theirs, from the 1960’s to today.Why must we understand where the injustice lies? Because, as Desmond Tutu famously said, “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.”{% for person in site.data.quotes-black-liberation-palestine %}{{ person.name }}{% for quote in person.quotes %}“{{ quote.text }}”{% if quote.source %}— {{ quote.source }}{% endif %}{% endfor %}{% endfor %}"
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{
"title" : "First Anniversary Celebration of EIP",
"author" : "EIP Editors",
"category" : "events",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/1st-anniversary-of-eip",
"date" : "2025-10-14 18:01:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/WSA_EIP_Launch_Cover.jpg",
"excerpt" : "Celebrating One Year of Independent Publishing",
"content" : "Celebrating One Year of Independent PublishingJoin Everything is Political on November 21st for the launch of our End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine.This members-only evening will feature a benefit dinner, cocktails, and live performances in celebration of a year of independent media, critical voices, and collective resistance.The EventNovember 21, 2025, 7-11pmLower Manhattan, New YorkLaunching our End-of-Year Special Edition MagazineSpecial appearances and performancesFood & Drink includedTickets are extremely limited, reserve yours now!Become an annual print member: get x back issues of EIP, receive the End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine, and come to the Anniversary Celebration.$470Already a member? Sign in to get your special offer. Buy Ticket $150 Just $50 ! and get the End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine Buy ticket $150 and get the End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine "
}
,
{
"title" : "Miu Miu Transforms the Apron From Trad Wife to Boss Lady: The sexiest thing in Paris was a work garment",
"author" : "Khaoula Ghanem",
"category" : "",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/miu-miu-transforms-the-apron-from-trad-wife-to-boss-lady",
"date" : "2025-10-14 13:05:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/Cover_EIP_MiuMiu_Apron.jpg",
"excerpt" : "Miuccia Prada has a habit of taking the least “fashion” thing in the room and making it the argument. For Spring 2026 at Miu Miu, the argument is the apron; staged not as a coy retro flourish but as a total system. The show’s mise-en-scène read like a canteen or factory floor with melamine-like tables, rationalist severity, a whiff of cleaning fluid. In other words, a runway designed to force a conversation about labor before any sparkle could distract us.",
"content" : "Miuccia Prada has a habit of taking the least “fashion” thing in the room and making it the argument. For Spring 2026 at Miu Miu, the argument is the apron; staged not as a coy retro flourish but as a total system. The show’s mise-en-scène read like a canteen or factory floor with melamine-like tables, rationalist severity, a whiff of cleaning fluid. In other words, a runway designed to force a conversation about labor before any sparkle could distract us.From the opening look—German actress Sandra Hüller in a utilitarian deep-blue apron layered over a barn jacket and neat blue shirting—the thesis was loud: the “cover” becomes the thing itself. As silhouettes marched on, aprons multiplied and mutated—industrial drill cotton with front pockets, raw canvas, taffeta and cloqué silk, lace-edged versions that flirted with lingerie, even black leather and crystal-studded incarnations that reframed function as ornament. What the apron traditionally shields (clothes, bodies, “the good dress”) was inverted; the protection became the prized surface. Prada herself spelled it out: “The apron is my favorite piece of clothing… it symbolizes women, from factories through to serving to the home.”Miu Miu Spring 2026 Ready-to-Wear. SuppliedThis inversion matters historically. The apron’s earliest fashion-adjacent life was industrial. It served as a barrier against grease, heat, stain. It was a token of paid and unpaid care. Miu Miu tapped that lineage directly (canvas, work belts, D-ring hardware), then sliced it against domestic codes (florals, ruffles, crochet), and finally pushed into nightlife with bejeweled and leather bibs. The garment’s migration across materials made its social migrations visible. It is a kitchen apron, yes, but also one for labs, hospitals, and factories; the set and styling insisted on that plurality.What makes the apron such a loaded emblem is not just what it covers, but what it reveals about who has always been working. Before industrialization formalized labor into factory shifts and wages, women were already performing invisible labour, the kind that doesn’t exist on payrolls but sits at the foundation of every functioning society. They were cooking, cleaning, raising children, nursing the ill. These tasks were foundational to every economy and yet absent from every ledger. Even when women entered the industrial workforce, from textile plants to wartime assembly lines, their domestic responsibilities did not disappear, they doubled. In that context, the apron here is a quiet manifesto for the strength that goes unrecorded, unthanked, and yet keeps civilization running.The algorithmic rise of the “tradwife,” the influencer economy that packages domesticity as soft power, is the contemporary cultural shadow here. Miu Miu’s apron refuses that rehearsal. In fact, it’s intentionally awkward—oversized, undone, worn over bikinis or with sturdy shoes—so the viewer can’t flatten it into Pinterest-ready nostalgia. Critics noted the collection as a reclamation, a rebuttal to the flattening forces of the feed: the apron as a uniform for endurance rather than submission. The show notes framed it simply as “a consideration of the work of women,” a reminder that the invisible economies of effort—paid, unpaid, emotional—still structure daily life.If that sounds unusually explicit for a luxury runway, consider the designer. Prada trained as a mime at Milan’s Piccolo Teatro, earned a PhD in political science, joined the Italian Communist Party, and was active in the women’s rights movement in 1970s Milan. Those facts are not trivia; they are the grammar of her clothes. Decades of “ugly chic” were, essentially, a slow campaign against easy consumption and default beauty. In 2026, the apron becomes the newest dialect. An emblem drawn from leftist feminist history, recoded into a product that still has to sell. That tension—belief versus business—is the Miuccia paradox, and it’s precisely why these aprons read as statements, not trends.The runway narrative traced a journey from function to fetish. Early looks were squarely utilitarian—thick cottons, pocketed bibs—before migrating toward fragility and sparkle. Lace aprons laid transparently over swimmers; crystal-studded aprons slipped across cocktail territory; leather apron-dresses stiffened posture into armor. The sequencing proposed the same silhouette can encode labor, intimacy, and spectacle depending on fabrication. If most brands smuggle “workwear” in as set dressing, Miu Miu forced it onto the body as the central garment and an unmissable reminder that the feminine is often asked to be both shield and display at once.It’s instructive to read this collection against the house’s last mega-viral object: the micro-mini of Spring 2022, a pleated, raw-hem wafer that colonized timelines and magazine covers. That skirt’s thesis was exposure—hip bones and hemlines as post-lockdown spectacle, Y2K nostalgia framed as liberation-lite. The apron, ironically, covers. Where the micro-mini trafficked in the optics of freedom (and the speed of virality), the apron asks about the conditions that make freedom possible: who launders, who cooks, who cares? To move from “look at me” to “who is working here?” is a pivot from optics to ethics, without abandoning desire. (The aprons are, after all, deeply covetable.) In a platform economy that still rewards the shortest hemline with the biggest click-through, this is a sophisticated counter-program.Yet the designer is not romanticizing toil. There’s wit in the ruffles and perversity in the crystals; neither negate labor, they metabolize it. The most striking image is the apron treated as couture-adjacent. Traditionally, an apron protects the precious thing beneath; here, the apron is the precious thing. You could call that hypocrisy—luxurizing the uniform of workers. Or, strategy, insisting that the symbols of care and effort deserve visibility and investment.Of course, none of this exists in a vacuum. The “tradwife” script thrives because it is aesthetically legible and commercially scalable. It packages gender ideology as moodboard. Miu Miu counters with garments whose legibility flickers. The collection’s best looks ask viewers to reconcile tenderness with toughness, convenience with care, which is exactly the mental choreography demanded of women in every context from office to home to online.If you wanted a season-defining “It” item, you’ll still find it. The apron is poised to proliferate across fast-fashion and luxury alike. But the deeper success is structural: Miu Miu re-centered labor as an aesthetic category. That’s rarer than a viral skirt. It’s a reminder that clothes don’t merely decorate life, they describe and negotiate it. In making the apron the subject rather than the prop, Prada turned a garment of service into a platform for agency. It’s precisely the kind of cultural recursion you’d expect from a designer shaped by feminist politics, who never stopped treating fashion as an instrument of thought as much as style.The last image to hold onto is deceptively simple: a woman in an apron, neither fetishized nor infantilized, striding, hands free. Not a costume for nostalgia, not a meme for the feed, but a working uniform reframed, respected, and suddenly, undeniably beautiful. That is Miu Miu’s provocation for Spring 2026: the work behind the work, made visible at last."
}
]
}