02/09/2025
Proud Taga Bukid❤️🙏
Growing up as a kid born and raised in Bukidnon, you would always hear it: “Taga-Bukid diay ka?”
And no matter how many times you heard it, it never came across as neutral. There was always that tone… curious, a little mocking, like you were some kind of oddity to be examined. I remember trying to soften my accent, trying to dress like everyone else, trying to talk like the “cool kids” in school. Even the way I laughed had to be adjusted. I learned quickly that being from Bukidnon wasn’t something you celebrated in front of strangers. It was something you whispered about, something you tucked neatly away.
And yet, even as I tried to hide it, Bukidnon was always there. It was in the way I knew the smell of the soil after the rain, in the mornings I spent barefoot running across fields, in the afternoons climbing trees, and in the weekends sneaking fruits from my Nanay's farm or from the backyard, leaving sticky fingerprints everywhere. It was in the stories my grandparents told and the songs we sang. And for years, I tried to pretend those things didn’t matter because apparently, they made me “less than.”
I remember one specific day when I was in a private school in Laguna. My teacher asked me to read aloud a lesson about nouns. She kept repeating the word “puh-se-sivvvv”, and I kept reading it as “poh-se-sib”. For me, that was normal. This was how it sounded where I came from, from the school I came from, from the way I was taught. I didn’t understand why it was wrong. Eventually, she just let me sit down. Then one of my classmates leaned over and asked, “Grachelle, taga-Bukid ka pala? Like nakatira kayo sa bundok?” I felt my cheeks burn. That moment stung. It was the first time I realized that where I came from was somehow different, maybe even seen as “less than” by others.
But roots have a funny way of sticking around. No matter how much you try to erase them, no matter how much you try to rewrite yourself, they’re there, quietly shaping you, reminding you who you are. And slowly, you start seeing them differently.
It didn’t happen overnight. It was gradual, through little victories, through life experiences that made me realize that my upbringing wasn’t a weakness; it was a strength. The resilience I gained from growing up in a place where the mountains tested your patience, where nature demanded respect, where the community was tight-knit and everyone knew everyone else started to feel like armor.
And then, one day, someone said it again, “Taga-Bukid diay ka?”
For the first time, I didn’t flinch. I didn’t soften. I didn’t try to hide it. I looked them in the eye, and I said it proudly, unapologetically:
“Yes. Taga-Bukid jud ko. Higaonon akong tribu.”
And something shifted. That question that used to sting, that label that used to make me hide, suddenly felt different. It wasn’t about belittlement anymore. It was about pride. About resilience. About a culture, a home, a way of life that shaped me, molded me, and made me who I am.
Your roots are your strength. They always have been. The mountains, the rivers, the fields, the festivals, the family gatherings… they are not things to hide. They are proof of resilience, of culture, of a life lived fully in a place that shaped you. Every challenge I faced, every moment I doubted myself, my roots were there, quietly reminding me who I am.
Now, when someone asks, “Taga-Bukid diay ka?” I don’t just answer, I shine. I carry my roots like armor, like a badge, like a crown. Growing up in Bukidnon didn’t make me less. It made me stronger, more grounded, more unstoppable. And every time I speak it, every time I embrace it, I’m not just saying where I’m from. I’m celebrating the very essence of who I am.
And the irony now? People actually wish they belonged to an IP community, or they admire the kind of life and culture we have in Bukidnon. Some even insist they “want to be part of the tribe.” And I can’t help but smile. What was once seen as different, or even less than, is now something people admire, something they long to understand.
Because, at the end of the day, being from Bukidnon isn’t a secret. It’s not a label to hide. It’s a story to tell, a strength to carry, and a pride that never fades.
Happy 111th Founding Anniversary, Bukidnon—kanak ha banuwa!
With love and gratitude,
Grache | A daughter of the Highlands
