Who can afford to eat as a family?

There is something deeply appealing about the call to “magpauli kag mag-upod sa pamilya.” In a day that is usually consumed by work, deadlines, meetings, traffic, classes, business, and an endless list of obligations, it is comforting to hear the government itself tell us to pause for a while, go home, and spend time with our families. As we celebrate Kainang Pamilya Mahalaga Day alongside the 34th National Family Week, many workers are given the opportunity to go home earlier, sit around a table, talk, and once again make time for the people we often see but barely speak to because life moves too quickly. There is an official basis for suspending work in certain agencies and instrumentalities of the national government, including government-owned or controlled corporations and state universities and colleges, beginning at 1 p.m., while basic services, health services, disaster preparedness and response, and other vital services continue. It is a meaningful reminder that family matters. But as I hear the call to go home and spend time with our families, there is one question I cannot help asking: What kind of family are we really encouraging to gather, and what is on their table?

It is easy to say that family matters when there is a house to come home to, time to rest, and food to put on the table. Family becomes much more complicated for Filipinos whose everyday lives involve a constant negotiation with scarcity. There are families whose biggest problem is not what dish to prepare but whether there will be any dish at all. There are families whose so-called “family meal” consists of instant noodles divided among everyone so that there will be enough to go around. There are families whose meal is a small piece of fried fish, salt, soy sauce, or whatever can be added to rice simply to give it some flavor. There are parents who say, “I’m still full,” even when they are not, because they want their children to have more to eat. There are tables where the entire family is present but the food is not enough. There are tables filled with food but missing the people who should be there because they are working in another city or another country. There are children being raised by grandparents because their parents have to work far from home. So, before we say that “eating together as a family is important,” perhaps we first need to ask: Who actually has the opportunity to eat as a family?

There is another question that is even more difficult to confront. What are families actually eating today? This is not simply a question about the menu. It is a question about the economy, poverty, access, health, dignity, and inequality. Food is one of the most basic human needs, yet in our society, it can also become a clear reflection of a person’s standard of living. There are families who can choose whether to prepare chicken, fish, pork, vegetables, fruits, or other food. There are families whose question is not, “What do we want to eat?” but rather, “What can we afford?” These are two very different questions. The first involves choice. The second involves limits. When a family has to stretch its income to cover rice, transportation, electricity, water, rent, education, medicine, debt, and other expenses, it is not enough to tell them to gather and eat together as a family. We also need to ask whether our policies, programs, and economic systems are giving them a real opportunity to have enough nutritious and dignified food.

This is where I become uncomfortable with the romantic image of the family meal that we often see in campaign materials and on social media. A beautiful table, the whole family together, plenty of food in the middle, everyone smiling, and the impression that family itself is the answer to every problem in life. It is a beautiful image, but it is incomplete. Families are not always like that. There are conflicts. There are separations. There is migration. There are single parents. There are grandparents who are actually raising their grandchildren. There are siblings who rely only on one another. There are parents working in other countries. There are children who have to work while studying. There are families living in small spaces where there is barely enough room for a proper table. There are families who cannot eat together because their work schedules do not match. If this is our reality, then we need to broaden our understanding of family. It is not always nuclear, complete, and seated around the same table. The Filipino family is more complicated, more expansive, and often much closer to the reality of survival than the picture we present during celebrations.

And this is where something seemingly simple but deeply political enters the conversation: food. Food is not neutral. What we eat, how much we spend on food, where it comes from, and who has access to it tell us many things about our economy and our society. Food tells us who has time to cook, who has money to buy it, who has a refrigerator, who has a proper kitchen, who has access to a market, and who is forced to make choices based on whatever is cheapest. Food also tells a story about gender. Often, there is one person in the family, usually a woman, who plans the menu, goes to the market, cooks, serves the food, and washes the dishes, yet we rarely call all of this “work.” We celebrate the family meal while failing to see the labor behind it. While the family sits at the table, there may be one person who cannot sit down because she is still serving, cooking, or cleaning for everyone.

So, if we are serious about the idea that “family meals matter,” then we also need to take seriously the work behind the food. Who earns the money to buy rice? Who goes to the market? Who decides what the family cannot afford to buy this week? Who cooks? Who makes sure the children eat first? Who eats less so that someone else can have more? Who figures out what to do when the money runs out before the next payday? We should not turn the family meal into a sentimental slogan as though there were no economic reality behind it. Food has a price. Time has a price. Labor has a price. Care has a price. And if we refuse to talk about these things, we may simply be using the word “family” as a beautiful wrapping around problems that we should be confronting as a society and as a government.

This is also why I do not want Family Week to become merely a celebration of the family. Families are not simply recipients of social programs. Families themselves are directly affected by wages, food prices, housing, public transportation, education, health care, child care, disaster response, employment, migration, and the cost of living. When rice becomes expensive, families are affected. When health care services are inadequate, families are affected. When wages are insufficient, families are affected. When a parent has to work far from home to send money back, families are affected. When a child has to stop studying in order to work, families are affected. When a grandmother has to raise her grandchildren because their parents are working abroad, families are affected. So, if we genuinely want to support families, we also need to look at the structures that determine how secure or fragile a family’s life can be.

It is equally important to ask who we actually consider a family. We repeatedly use the phrase “family values,” but we also need to recognize that the concept of family is changing in our society. Not everyone has a father, a mother, and children living under one roof. There are single-parent families. There are grandparents who take on the role of parents. There are siblings who rely only on one another. There are families with one member who has been living abroad for many years. There are children raised by relatives. There are people whose definition of family extends beyond blood relations to include those who remained beside them during the most difficult parts of their lives. If we are serious about respecting families, we cannot confine family to a single image. We should not tell families that do not fit the traditional mold that they are somehow lesser or “incomplete.” Family is alive. It changes as society changes.

For me, this is the more important part of the celebration. It is not only about going home but asking whether everyone still has a place to go home to. It is not only about food but asking whether there is enough food for everyone. It is not only about being together but asking whether parents have enough time to be with their children without sacrificing the income they need to survive. It is not only about family values but asking whether our policies and public services are genuinely helping families or making their lives even more difficult. There are families who want to be together but cannot because one member has to work far away. There are parents who want to go home early but need to work overtime so they can afford food the following day. There are children who want to be with their families but live in another city because that is where they found employment. In situations like these, going home is not simply a personal decision. There is an economy behind it.

In a city like Iloilo, it is easy to talk about progress. We see projects, programs, infrastructure, events, awards, and recognitions that give people a sense of pride in the city. Urban development matters. But as someone who has spent many years engaging with communities, books, schools, culture, and the everyday life of the city, I cannot measure progress simply by how beautiful the city looks or by how many awards it receives. We also need to ask: How are the families who live here? Can they afford enough food? Can they pay the rent? Do they have access to good education and health care? Do they have safe homes? Do they have time for their children? Do they have jobs that provide sufficient wages and dignity? Do they have public spaces they can use for free? Does an ordinary family have the opportunity to rest and live without worrying every single day about where the money for the next meal will come from?

There is a contradiction in our celebration of Kainang Pamilya Mahalaga Day that we need to confront. We give people time to spend with their families, but we should not forget that many of them work precisely so they can feed those families. For someone who works every day, an afternoon without work may be a gift. But it can also mean income they will not receive. A “day off” does not mean the same thing to everyone. For some, it means rest. For others, it means an opportunity to spend time with family. For still others, it is another day when they have to think about where the money for tomorrow’s food will come from. That is why we need to look at family not only through a sentimental lens but also through the realities of work, poverty, inequality, and social protection.

I do not want to finish this with another slogan. Perhaps that is precisely the problem. We are very good at creating slogans. Go home. Be together. Eat together. Love your family. But slogans do not solve hunger. Poverty does not disappear because there is a family photo. Food prices do not fall because we declare that family is important. A parent does not suddenly find decent work because there is a National Family Week. And a child who goes to school hungry does not need an inspirational quote. That child needs food. So, as we go home today, as we sit around the table, as we prepare food and call our children to eat, I hope we do more than simply feel grateful that we have a family. I hope we also ask what our own families and other families need so that they can not only eat together as families but live as families.

The most important question raised by Kainang Pamilya Mahalaga Day is not simply, “Did you eat with your family today?” The heavier question is this: “What do we need to change in our communities and in our systems so that every family can have enough food, time for one another, a safe home, decent work, and a life lived with dignity?” Because not all families have the same table. They do not have the same food. They do not have the same amount of time. They do not have the same opportunities. And if we want the celebration of family to become genuinely meaningful, perhaps the bravest thing we can do is look at families without a filter. Not only the families who look beautiful in photographs, but the families worrying about the price of rice, searching for work, caring for children, borrowing money for medicine, waiting for their wages, struggling with rising expenses, and continuing to sit around a table even when there is very little food.

Let us go home. Let us spend time with our families. Let us eat together. But while we eat, let us also ask: Who is unable to eat, why are they unable to eat, and what do we need to change so that at the next table, more people can sit down, eat, and live with dignity?