Protect Panay Bukidnon
In the heart of Panay Island, across the rugged mountains of Iloilo, Antique, Aklan, and Capiz, exists a community whose traditions have endured centuries of colonization, exploitation, and the careless hands of modernization. They are the Panay Bukidnon, the tumandok, the real stewards of the land and culture that outsiders

By Noel Galon de Leon
By Noel Galon de Leon
In the heart of Panay Island, across the rugged mountains of Iloilo, Antique, Aklan, and Capiz, exists a community whose traditions have endured centuries of colonization, exploitation, and the careless hands of modernization. They are the Panay Bukidnon, the tumandok, the real stewards of the land and culture that outsiders love to romanticize and yet constantly misrepresent. For them, culture is not a museum trinket or a social media prop. It is alive, raw, and inseparable from identity. Rolinda Gilbaliga, known among her peers as Durupan for her fearless creativity, dares to lift the veil on this world, exposing both its beauty and the disrespect it faces while sharing her unfiltered frustrations and uncompromising vision for the survival of her people.
When asked about the Panay Bukidnon, Rolinda explains with a warmth and pride that comes from lived experience. “We are not just a group. We are a legacy. Our culture is composed of music, dance, embroidery, epics, and handicrafts. We celebrate the Binanog, our traditional Hawk-Eagle Dance. We preserve the Binukot, or well-kept maiden, and we practice palupad, musical compositions like Talda, Sinuli, and Olawhay. Each of these traditions is a thread in the fabric of who we are. This is not something you can casually replicate. It is lived, practiced, and passed down carefully through generations.”
The Binanog dance, perhaps the most well-known symbol of Panay Bukidnon culture, holds a particularly special place in Rolinda’s heart. Derived from the word banog, meaning hawk or eagle, the dance mimics the majestic flight of these birds. But it is not merely imitation. It is a ritual of unity, a method of match-making, a way for the community to come together during weddings and other significant gatherings. “The Binanog is a reflection of dignity and harmony,” Rolinda explains. “Each gesture, each movement of the hands, conveys meaning, love, respect, and connection. It is an honor to perform it correctly.”
Rolinda’s passion, however, is tinged with frustration. Recently, she came across a video of someone performing the Binanog dance on social media, featured in a Filipino-American History Month program in the United States. “At first, I was proud, seeing our traditional attire on stage is always exciting,” she recalls. “But when the dance started, I was shocked. The steps did not match our music. The movements were awkward, random, and even resembled tinikling in the wrong way. I felt compelled to respond because as a member of the Panay Bukidnon, I could not watch this misrepresentation go unchallenged. Culture is not a costume or a prop for entertainment. It carries meaning, history, and identity.”
This incident, she says, illustrates a larger issue. The misinterpretation and commercialization of indigenous traditions is growing rapidly. “Our elders are careful about how we pass on traditions. In the Binanog, there is an arindador, a matchmaker, who chooses compatible dancers. Their movements must synchronize, energetic paired with energetic, gentle with gentle. At the start, we have ripaso, a moment to listen and feel the music before performing. Without this understanding, the dance loses its meaning. Modern adaptations, festival mashups, and social media performances increasingly dilute the tradition, prioritizing spectacle over authenticity.”
Rolinda speaks candidly about why preserving these traditions is essential. “Our culture is our identity. It is a legacy from our ancestors, a bridge connecting us to the past and guiding our future. It is the foundation of who we are as individuals and as a community. When we lose it, we lose a part of ourselves. And when others appropriate it carelessly, it hurts, not just us, but the history and sacrifices of our people.”
The threats facing Panay Bukidnon culture are not abstract. Rolinda describes a community gradually affected by modernity, migration, and commercialization. “Some of our youth migrate to cities, forgetting the ways of their ancestors. Festivals showcase our dances with added modern moves for entertainment, and embroidery is mass-produced for profit, losing its quality and soul. Capitalists see our culture as a commodity, while some pretend to be members of our community without understanding its essence. Without strong guidance or leadership from respected elders, the group risks fragmentation. It is heartbreaking, because our culture deserves more than this. It deserves respect.”
When asked how outsiders can responsibly feature indigenous traditions, Rolinda’s advice is firm but generous. “Do not take data from a single source. Immerse yourself in the community. Live with us if possible. Only then will you understand the depth of what we practice, the meaning behind each dance, each chant, each stitch. Respect and research are essential. Without them, you are contributing to misrepresentation.”
For those who wish to support the Panay Bukidnon, she has a clear message. “Correct us when we are wrong, educate us when we do not understand, but also help us fight for justice when our culture is disrespected. Stand with us to uncover the truth behind misinterpretations. Protect our heritage not as a curiosity, but as a living, sacred part of our identity.”
And to her fellow Panay Bukidnon, Rolinda offers encouragement. “Do not be afraid to stand for what is right. Do not be ashamed of your lineage. Defend the honor of our ancestors, and continue to live, share, and celebrate the richness of our traditions. Even as challenges come, modernization, migration, misrepresentation, our culture will survive as long as we remain committed to it.”
Looking ten years ahead, Rolinda admits there is uncertainty. Technology, money, and personal ambition threaten unity, and traditions risk losing their depth. But she remains hopeful. “The Panay Bukidnon, like the Philippines itself, has endured many storms. And like the hawk we emulate in our Binanog, we rise. With awareness, respect, and care, our culture can continue to thrive for generations.”
As the Philippines observes Buwan ng Katutubo, Rolinda’s message is clear, impassioned, and unapologetic. Mabuhay ang mga Katutubo. Mabuhay ang Panay Bukidnon. Mabuhay ang mga Filipino!
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