About face: Breaking down Filipina beauty

MANILA, Philippines - Working as a model in Tokyo for a few years, I was all too aware of the singular beauty ideal there. Ask a Japanese person what “Japanese beauty” is, and the answer is straightforward: white unblemished skin, big almond eyes, and delicate, somewhat innocent features (Asian characteristics with Caucasian amplification). This standard was pretty much replicated, with few variations, in other Asian markets that I have worked in.

However, I remember being stricken the first time I flew to Manila by how many people told me I looked Filipina (I’m half Japanese, half Polish-American). I was surprised at how ignorant I was about what “looking Filipina” meant; I knew the Filipino Americans back home were generally  tanned and bore hardly any resemblance to me. The Filipinos I met in other Asian countries also shared the same characteristics. Yet Manila exposed me to a whole new kaleidoscope of people: an array of faces both dark and fair, Oriental, Austronesian, and Caucasian stared back at me from advertisements all over the metro. As one who earns her bread and butter from fitting a certain image, I asked the question, “What exactly is Filipino beauty?”     

When I got asked to write a piece on uncovering “Filipina beauty,” I lunged at the opportunity, diving head-first into research, asking local friends and strangers what their standard of beauty is and who they wished to look like. Some answers (“We want to look mestiza,”) left me apprehensive that I’d end up writing about post-colonialism and residual racism in a developing country. I knew the story was more multifaceted than that, a reflection of the diversity and intricacy of Philippine’s sociology and history.

The Philippines is influenced by both Asian and Western mentalities, exalting Korean whitening cosmetics while coveting American bronzers and caught between lasting US soft power and a newer influence from closer up-shot neighbors. It feels like home. Meandering through The Fort or Greenbelt, passing Tully’s, American Eagle Outfitters, and  IHOP, I feel like I’m back in Orange County, CA, a place that is also home to a large Filipino-American population. Yet the guards that probe you with wooden sticks and the fish balls being sold on the streets are reminders that I am in Asia still. The Body Shop sits across The Face Shop; do we copy the sun-kissed glow advertised at the former or the stark white faces from the latter?

I’m unsure if Filipinos are aware of the way Westerners feel about “whitening”, that it’s unnatural and reminiscent of Michael Jackson. Yet when I asked one of my Western-educated Filipina girlfriends why she’s fanatic about staying out of the sun, she gave a host of reasons without really answering my question: “I don’t look good dark. I don’t like the sun.” I felt she was skirting the issue.

Is the Filipino obsession with whitening products due to vestiges of Spanish elitism? The term mestiza came directly out of the colonial period but the Spaniards were much more persnickety about genetics, using specified terms for different kinds of ancestries: insulares, peninsulares, Americanos, negritos, indios. Are the terms morena, chinita, tisay, and mestiza the modern evolutionary byproduct of that caste system? One physicality isn’t blatantly labeled better than the other today, but through my modeling bookers, I learned that clients prefer mestiza models, especially for hair or beauty advertisements that sell “aspirational beauty.” TV commercials for other products use morena girls as they’re more “relatable.”

It’s easy to explain why Westerners covet the golden look. Prior to the turn of the 20th century, Europeans showed status by how fair their skin was. Peasants were brown from toiling in the fields while the aristocracy was fair due to hours doing “refined” things indoors. Then heliotherapy was discovered, the benefits of sunbathing touted as a cure for rickets. It became a sign of affluence as the leisurely class could afford holidays on the French Riviera and the like; Coco Chanel and F. Scott Fitzgerald were notorious sun worshipers.

Yet this trend never caught on in this part of the world. Though Asian economies developed, affluence and wealth were never shown off with tans from exotic getaways. White was still in.  A friend argued, though, that the reason for the fairness craze here is due to the Asian marketing umbrella that the Philippines falls under. If China demanded whitening products, all of Asia would in effect be sold whitening products. Perhaps this is true to some degree. Yet Procter & Gamble’s Olay has an Olay Philippines and Olay Singapore (among three other Asia Pacific markets) and though both sell a whitening line, they have varying ingredients. The Philippines’ products market is not being dictated by its larger Asian neighbor’s demands; the Philippines wants to be fairer on its very own. 

Could the K-Pop invasion be partially responsible for this? We see the translucent faces of Korean soap actors on local television daily; it’s only natural to be affected by their beauty trends. For the 20 percent or so of Filipinos with mixed Chinese ancestry, attaining the Korean look is attainable. But do we really want to be influenced by a country where 20 percent of women in their capital ages (19-49) have undergone some kind of cosmetic surgery procedure? There’s not enough credible information to show the official statistics for cosmetic surgery in the Philippines, but I believe that selling an ideal of beauty — one that belongs to another race entirely in fact — is somewhat unethical, considering 30 percent of the population live beneath the poverty line and don’t have means to lighten their skin or get a nose job.

In the barrage of international marketing and influence, Filipinas struggle to relate to a beauty ideal catered to their specific look. I applaud Myra E and Avon Philippines for selecting brand ambassadors who are representative of Filipina diversity. Iza Calzado, a Pinay beauty with a definite melanin tint to her, is Myra E’s chosen face; Avon recently signed on Miss Universe First Runner-Up Janine Tugonon as its newest endorser. Other celebrities like Danica Magpantay, Michelle Madrigal, Isabelle Daza, Lovi Poe, and Bianca Gonzalez all boast the same smooth, mocha complexion. Can more celebrities like them be vocally active in embracing one’s own natural beauty and skin color, whatever they may be?

Perhaps the true personification of “Filipina beauty” are the country’s beauty queens, what every little girl aspires of becoming. The year 1969 was revolutionary: Gloria Diaz was first morena to win the Bb. Pilipinas title and she went on to prove at a global level that brown is indeed beautiful by becoming Miss Universe. Recent Binibini winners have been caramel colored, too: Venus Raj, Shamcey Supsup and Janine Tugonon, who have placed fourth, third and first runner up respectively at Miss Universe title. From humble backgrounds, their escalation to fame and fortune via winning the crown is due to their perseverance and dedication, and their huge following is heartening. It espouses the message that dark is also beautiful, and that the world outside agrees, too. 

So what is Filipina beauty? I realize that the answer doesn’t come in a neatly wrapped format but is rather as diverse as the Philippines itself: the beautiful almond-eyed chinita, the aristocratic and aquiline-featured mestiza, the chocolate skinned morena and the infinite mixes of all combined. Let’s embrace this diversity rather than hawk a one-dimensional version imported from some other ethnically homogenous land. Granted, I’ve made a living off of my Photoshopped images selling some miracle cream or the other, but beauty is culturally bound and socially manipulated. I’d like to add my voice to the mix in advocating a message that may sound clichéd and naïve: We are beautiful as we are, in all shapes, shades and sizes. Let’s work to make that “real Filipina beauty.”