[Time Trowel] When ‘traditional’ weddings put culture on display

2026-02-15 - 03:06

A trowel (/ˈtraʊ.əl/), in the hands of an archaeologist, is like a trusty sidekick – a tiny, yet mighty, instrument that uncovers ancient secrets, one well-placed scoop at a time. It’s the Sherlock Holmes of the excavation site, revealing clues about the past with every delicate swipe. In 1904, visitors to the St. Louis World’s Fair watched Indigenous peoples from the Philippines perform weddings, rituals, animal butchering (dogs), and everyday life on a fixed schedule. These scenes were presented as culture but detached from the social relationships that gave them meaning. That way of presenting culture has not disappeared. More than a century later, the setting has changed, but similar questions continue to surface. In the Cordillera today, Indigenous practices are increasingly packaged and performed — a shift that has drawn attention through debates over so-called traditional weddings and calls for cultural sensitivity training for wedding coordinators. Traditional weddings are now often assembled from rituals and textiles drawn from Indigenous communities. In some cases, elements from different groups are brought together in a single ceremony because they appear culturally appropriate. What once carried social responsibility and kinship is reorganized into a sequence of performances arranged for photographs and Instagram. Decisions about what is included, how it is performed, and who performs it are often made outside the communities from which these practices come. This raises questions about authority and responsibility. When practices are treated as available on demand, control often shifts from communities to coordinators, markets, and consumers. What once structured kinship and inheritance comes to function primarily as a visual marker rather than as a social obligation. This way of approaching Indigenous culture may appear new, shaped by tourism and social media. It is not. It has deeper roots in earlier forms of cultural display. At the St. Louis World’s Fair, the grounds were presented as spaces of education and progress. Industrial machines, scientific displays, and colonial subjects occupied the same terrain, arranged to tell a story about modernity and development. The Philippines, then under United States colonial rule, was represented through ethnological villages populated by more than a thousand Filipinos. Indigenous groups, including Cordillera peoples, were positioned to illustrate racial classifications that framed upland communities as less advanced. Weddings and rituals were staged according to schedules set by fair organizers and removed from the social relationships that gave them meaning in their home communities. The fair promised education, but it also functioned as a spectacle that helped justify colonial rule. The United States used the Philippines to showcase its colonial project to the world. Americans were told they were in the islands to help their little brown brothers govern themselves, a phrase that captured the logic of benevolent assimilation. Unlike European empires that openly claimed permanent rule, the US framed its expansion as temporary and moral, a version of the white man’s burden that promised guidance toward civilization rather than domination. Within this framework, Indigenous culture was presented as evidence. Rituals and everyday practices were displayed to demonstrate why intervention was necessary. These scenes suggested societies in need of supervision and instruction. Culture became something to be consumed and interpreted by outsiders rather than practiced within community norms and obligations. Practices were no longer embedded in social relations but reorganized to support a political narrative about progress and tutelage. That approach did not end in 1904. It continues to shape how Indigenous culture is encountered today. Traditions are often treated as available on demand, valued for appearance, and separated from the communities that give them meaning. While the language has changed, the underlying structure remains. This continuity helps explain current conversations around Cordillera weddings. Traditional ceremonies are offered as packages. Couples are presented with rituals and scripts drawn from communities they may not belong to. Sometimes these elements are combined to meet expectations of what looks culturally appropriate. In the process, authority gradually shifts from elders and families to those who assemble and deliver the experience. ALSO ON RAPPLER [Time Trowel] Heritage for whom? [OPINION] On Sinulog, Singkil, and religious insensitivity [OPINION] Dispatching ‘prehistory’ for an inclusive history [OPINION] How the Philippines can repair its culture Education for globalization kills culture of poor countries Fashion world shaken by cultural appropriation claims Ethnographic research offers context for this shift. In Ifugao communities for example, marriage was not a single event. It unfolded through negotiations between families. Pigs were butchered to mark social ties. Rice fields figured prominently because marriage reshaped labor and inheritance. Who spoke, who ate first, and who hosted were important acts. These practices carried authority because they were embedded in relationships. When they are removed from that setting and reenacted as part of a wedding package, their function changes. A chant becomes sound. A ritual becomes choreography. A pig becomes a prop. The roles assigned may look correct, but they no longer carry social weight. What remains is form without obligation. This is not an argument for freezing culture. Indigenous practices have always changed. The question is how change happens and who guides it. In the past, adaptation was negotiated within communities. Today, it is often shaped by market demand. Culture becomes something that can be borrowed and returned as a commodity. The parallel with the St. Louis World’s Fair helps frame the present. In both cases, Indigenous life is curated for an audience. In 1904, this occurred under colonial rule. Today, it occurs under commercial pressure. In both contexts, decisions about what is shown and how it is performed are often made without full community consent. Cultural sensitivity training can play a constructive role if it goes beyond surface rules. It can help clarify not only what may be included, but also when restraint is appropriate. Some rituals are tied to specific relationships. Many textiles carry obligations and meanings. Some practices lose meaning when separated from the community. The more challenging work involves restraint and accountability. Culture is not a theme and not décor. Accuracy alone does not ensure respect. Respect requires limits, consultation, and most importantly, consent. It also requires recognizing that not all cultural practices are meant for display or sale. If weddings in the Cordillera are to engage Indigenous practices, the goal should not be authenticity for presentation. It should be accountability to communities and history. Without that shift, familiar patterns are likely to persist. Culture remains on display. It is curated for an audience. It now comes with professional lighting and a booking fee. – Rappler.com Stephen B. Acabado is professor of anthropology at the University of California-Los Angeles. He directs the Ifugao and Bicol Archaeological Projects, research programs that engage community stakeholders. He grew up in Tinambac, Camarines Sur.