Piña Fiber and the Barong Tagalog

What is a Barong Tagalog?

In beginning to understand exactly what a Barong Tagalog is, it’s important to understand the derivation of this word according to the language of Tagalog. Let’s take it apart for a moment:

‘Baro ng Tagalog’

(dress) (of)   (the Tagalog)

Contracted, this phrase becomes ‘Barong

Tagalog’. The shortened and most commonly used

term for this garment is called the ‘Barong’.

Quite literally, this term translates to the ‘dress of the Tagalog’. Originally, the word Tagalog-- which translates to “from the river”-- referred specifically to the body of people native to the central Luzon region of the Philippines. The word Tagalog is now most commonly used to refer to the Austronesian language that originated from the area of Luzon, and is recognized as the standardized language in the Philippine Islands today. Over time, just as the word Tagalog broadened past the region of Luzon and became a hypernym for all of the Philippines to identify with, so did the dress of the Luzon region. The Barong is now recognized as a form of Philippine national menswear. 

History of the Barong

Precolonial Philippine barong were reflective of the natural climate and environmental aspects of the Philippine islands. Known for its tropical heat, relatively high temperature, and exorbitant humidity, it only makes sense that native fashion trends displayed these conditions. Natural fibers were woven into sheer fabrics to allow the body to breathe. In the region of Luzon, the first forms of the Barong were made from kanga, a rough cotton fiber. These garments were collarless, hit right below the waist, and opened in the front to provide ventilation.

The Spanish colonial period of the Philippines lasted from Magellan’s arrival to the islands (1521) until the Philippine Revolution (1898). As the Spanish arrived, they donned impractical clothing-- including overcoats-- that were simply illogical and unsuitable for the tropical climate. Native Tagalog men did not follow suit in this aspect, and continued to wear traditional barong garments, understandably more comfortable.

In typical colonial fashion, however, the exertion of Spanish subjugation manifested into every aspect of Philippine lifestyle, eventually also including dress. As Spanish control persisted, historical processes unbridled, resulting in the act of creating distinctions in class-- and eventually religious affiliation-- through clothing to become more prevalent. In the mid-18th century, the Spanish dictated the Filipino educated class as ‘Ilustrados’, Spanish for “learned” or “enlightened”. Middle class Ilustrados began to adopt Western aspects into their clothing, namely the addition of the Elizabethan collar  and large buttons to the barong.

One of the largest shifts, however, was the introduction of a New World plant: the Red Spanish Pineapple. The arrival of the Red Spanish Pineapple ushered in the era of piña cloth, which has now become the most common fiber in the construction of barongs.

A Brief History of Piña Fiber 

Piña fiber quickly became the most sought after material to create clothing due to its sheer, lightweight, nature. Native Philippine artisans that had already been skilled in weaving cloth from local banana plants (Abaca) were able to grow accustomed to using piña as another resource to obtain fibers. Though they became the most preferred clothing, piña garments also became the most expensive clothing options due to the limited imported supply from Spain and the extremely labor-intensive nature of production. As a result, piña cloth created by indigenous weavers were mostly worn by the wealthier elite. Eventually, piña garments became even more elevated as Spanish missionaries encouraged indigenous artisans to incorporate the presence of embroidery. Already woven piña cloth began to move from central provinces such as Luzon and the Visayas to the provinces of Lumban to have experienced artisans in those embroider atop the woven piña. This embroidered cloth sold for three times more than plain piña. 

As time went on, textile exports from the Philippines began to exponentially dwindle, as a result of sugar cane moving into the number one spot of economic development. This signal to modernity caused indigenous cloth production to lose value.

Examining Piña in the TRC

In beginning to think about this project, I knew that I wanted to examine Filipino textiles. I was pleased to discover that the Textile Resource Center houses two samples of piña cloth, reminiscent of the foundational cloth used for the creation of these barongs.

As I interacted with these cloths in my visits to the TRC, I became more appreciative of each piece’s craftsmanship each time. Although both cloths are not quite finished garments resembling a wearable version of the men’s barong tagalog, each of them acted as samples for me to investigate the nature of these intricate weaving structures and detailed embroidery patterns.

One of the most intricate parts of the barong is the embroidery done on top of the foundational piña weave. The embroidery done on garments is usually done with a cotton, silk, or piña-silk thread. Over time, motifs on barong tagalogs have varied from symbols of Philippine scenery (reminiscent of nipa huts, carabao, rice fields), to designs based off of Philippine flora and fauna, to even the incorporation of geometric themes such as squares and triangles. As seen in the photos here of Object 7.37 and 7.38, the embroidery details in both are exquisitely intricate. The embroidery done on both 7.38 and 7.38 are executed by a combination of hand machine techniques

Perhaps the most notable characteristic of these objects is the extremely diaphanous nature that each one exhibits. I felt as if each piece was so extremely delicate, to be handled with the utmost fragility and care. Piña, already such a lightweight and sheer material itself, offers an ultra-fine foundation for such ornate embroidery to sit upon. Both of these aspects combined (delicacy and complexity) work together and exist in harmony to create a magical experience for whoever is wearing or handling the art. I can attest to this feeling of sensitivity in physically handling the cloth, but at the same time experiencing such a mystifying encounter with both subtlety and extravagance at the same time.

As pristine as each object was, some of the things that remained the most interesting to me were the inconsistencies and irregularities in the foundational piña cloth. Frayed edges, pin holes from holding the cloth taut to execute the embroidery, and unevenness in weave presented themselves as opportunities to understand the structure of this craft. Being able to recognize the presence of the human hand is always heartening.

The Relationship Between Piña and National Identity

In defining Philippine nationalism, it is important to think about how this national identity is constructed. More often than not, the concept of national identity is constructed around historical high culture and mainstream symbols of citizenship (flags, national anthems, historic military conquests). This is problematic for a number of reasons: [1] Focusing on the upper crust reflects only a small percentage of a nation's people, resulting in a wildly inaccurate representation of national identity altogether. [2] This representation blatantly favors colonialist ideals and values--as these values are what is considered 'high culture'-- over values that are genuine to the native people, their views, and their experiences. Regarding the use of banal national symbols, adhering to such a limited amount of mainstream symbolism with the intention of fostering nationalism instead becomes paradoxical, because it hinders the notion of individuality among the people, and denies the individual's potential to reflect a genuine reflection of true identity.  The point that resonated with me the most in Milgram’s article, Piña Cloth, Identity and the Project of Philippine Nationalism, is that basing national identity on daily cultural practice, rather than a falsified construction built on colonial inflection, is a more genuine reflection of national identity. What better way to practice this notion than to include the cultural ingredients of fashion and textiles in this formation of identity?

In Piña Cloth, Identity and the Project of Philippine Nationalism, Milgram communicates how contemporary designers are actively trying to subvert engrained connotations of piña fiber, in an attempt to pay homage to the roots of this indigenous cloth and its polysemic cultural significance, rather than its interactions with colonialism and the construction of an inexact national identity. Shining a light on this cloth’s roots and roles in the material culture of daily life allows it to become a recontextualized symbol of Filipinism through relatability relation and a genuine assessment of cultural forms, rather than a fragile metaphor for an ill-formulated calculation of national identity rooted in class distinction and cultural gaps.

As a result of this reimagining and reworking that contemporary designers are doing for the future of piña cloth, piña garments-- including barongs-- now have the ability to become symbols of not only mimesis and decolonization, but also a catalyst for more genuine symbols of national identity rooted in both venerable heritage and contemporary culture.

Piña and my own Identity

Reading about this relationship between piña cloth and national identity led me to think of my own identity. Especially in this past year, my Asian-American background is something that I have thought a lot about. As a first-generation Filipino-American child I experienced many growing pains in trying to discern myself. One of the most common tropes of the Asian American experience is not living up to the anticipated labels and behaviors that non Asian American people have for us. These stereotypes are often inaccurate and unrealistic, oversimplifying the entire Asian American community and further perpetuating this cycle of a lack of understanding, and a lack of effort to understand and recognize the complexities of the Asian American narrative.

Over time I have also noticed that within the Asian and Asian American community, there are also disparities. For instance, shameful encounters with the term ‘whitewashed’, having other Asians tell me that I am not appreciating my heritage enough, or hearing someone tell me that I’m no longer a ‘real Asian’ for being raised in the States, are issues that I have also grappled with. Growing up, I always had difficulties living up to manufactured expectations and sweeping generalities that come from both ends of the spectrum. So, what is it? Am I too American, or am I too Asian? Why is it so difficult to feel a sense of belonging from both identities? 

Interpretation through Remaking

As I was absorbing different readings and writing about this topic that is so dear to me, the desire to physically create something in me wanted more. Being able to connect to these objects in a more tactile way became an increasingly important factor in understanding different aspects that I couldn’t comprehend as well through articles-- such as being able to grasp physical processes and to understand the idea of labor in the context of these textiles. The specific labor-intensive processes I discuss here are the steps taken to create piña fiber.  I decided to try my hand at creating my own.

After soaking my loose pineapple leaves for 3 days, it was time to remove them from the water bath to begin the extracting process. In traditional practice, Spanish Red Pineapple leaves are soaked for 10-14 days, as they are larger and have a tougher exterior.

Pakigue (to scrape)

In this step, the exterior of the pineapple leaf is scraped away to reveal the fibers within the leaf. While ceramic plates with blunt edges are usually used to scrape away this outer layer, I used the blunted edge of my rice cooker lid. In this step of extraction two types of thread are exposed: Bastos (coarser thicker fiber, often used for rope or twine) and Liniwan (much finer fiber, used for cloth production.

Paghugas (to wash) & Pagpisi (to dispose of)

In this step, Bastos is separated or disposed of, and Liniwan is washed in running water. Traditionally, oyster shells are used to clean any remaining epidermal remnants from the scraping process. During this washing process, the fibers lose the initial green tinge they have from the exterior layer, and resemble the natural cream-white color reminiscent in piña cloth and garments.

Although this make-do version of extracting piña fiber (from banal grocery store pineapples, as a result of living in Chicago with a lack of traditional Spanish Red Pineapples) does not even come close to the sacred art of indigenous piña fiber extraction, beginning to explore the act of interpretation through remaking felt necessary for me to understand even a fraction of this art. And with even this makeshift introduction to these incredible special physical acts, I feel that much closer to the exploration of textiles from the Philippines, and connecting to my roots through these actions.

Annotated Bibloigraphy

Milgram, B. L. (2005). Piña cloth, identity and the project of Philippine nationalism. Asian Studies Review, 29(3), 233–246. https://doi.org/10.1080/10357820500270144 

This Asian Studies Review article communicates the relationship that Piña fiber has to the  construction of national Philippine identity. Milgram starts by speaking about ‘national identity  construction’ in general. An important point that she makes is that often times, facets of national  identity are rooted in “high” culture. This is problematic, because it reflects only a miniscule part  of the society as a whole. How is this formulation of national identity, then, accurate? Milgram  communicates that over time, “people increasingly craft personalized forms of identity by drawing  on the “banal” material culture of everyday life” (233). She equates this notion to Piña fiber  specifically and relates the life of Piña to Philippine identity. Piña garments have undergone a  fluxus of popularity (including representations of different social statuses), reflecting this trend of  how piña has been reinvented multiple times over the years. 

Piña culture is something that Milgram also writes about. Having originated in Spanish  roots as a New World plant, the presence of Piña fiber (specifically the Spanish Red Pineapple) is  a product of colonialism. What does this mean, then, when such a large part of national identity is  foundational upon those who you have been colonized by? 

Capistrano-Baker, F.H., & Castro, S.B. (2010). Philippines: Central. In J. Dhamija  (Ed.). Berg Encyclopedia of World Dress and Fashion: South Asia and Southeast Asia (pp.  337–342). Oxford: Bloomsbury Academic. Retrieved April 07 2021, from http://dx.doi.org.proxy.artic.edu/10.2752/BEWDF/EDch4049 

This source gives a history on Barongs as a national garment. I am particularly interested  in how this source communicates the connections between formal choices in garments, in relation  to Western/European fashion (because Western forces colonized the Philippines, does this  connotation come from the inherent & conditioned concept that these Westerners are ‘the ideal’?) 

• “The elite male wore his baro with a European-style standing collar and cravat, a top hat, and loose  trousers of solid or striped cloth. Men holding political office were conspicuously clothed in hybrid fashion,  such as those portrayed in nineteenth-century export paintings wearing the Napoleonic ensemble consisting  of a shirt with a cravat, a vest, a tailcoat, tight knee breeches, stockings, and a bicorne hat; or those wearing  loose silk trousers (sayasaya) paired with the native baro worn under a tailored European jacket.”

http://www.seasite.niu.edu/Tagalog/Cynthia/costumes/barong_tagalog.htm#A%20little%2 0after%20the%20eighteenth%20century,%20t 

SEAsite is an online learning platform fro Southeast Asian languages, literatures, and cultures at  Norrthern Illinois University. This page offers lots of info on the history of the Barong Tagalog,  as well as technical aspects such as embroidery and piña processes. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yRvWiiGoOzI 

An informative Youtube video I referred to when figuring out the logistics of making my own  piña.