Cowboy Hats and Igorot Cowboys in Restless Mobility
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Angelie Marilla
12th Igorot Cordillera BIMAAK-Europe (ICBE) Conference
ULB Campus du Solbosch, Bâtiment S, Salle Dupréel, Avenue Jeanne 44,
1050 Bruxelles, Belgium
29 May – 1 June 2025
Presentation Transcription
12th ICBE Conference Brussels, 31 May 2025
Cowboy Hats and Igorot Cowboys in Restless Mobility
Angelie Marilla
Université libre de Bruxelles
Introduction: The Fluidity of Identities
It’s truly a privilege and an honor to be presenting my paper today alongside our esteemed speakers— Macky and Abi—who are both proud, if at times anxious, indigenous anthropologists writing about indigeneity. I wanted to join this anxiety thread, and tell you that if they are anxious Igorots writing about their culture and experience, I also share a different level of anxiety given my positionality as an outsider to your culture. Because let’s be real—you all have every reason to be cautious or even skeptical of people like me. Researchers & anthropologists who are outsiders, we have a bit of a reputation in the Igorot community—a long history of romanticizing or exoticizing things we barely understand, and then walking away thinking we are “experts of Igorot culture” after just a year or two of fieldwork—when clearly, we are not! But I am very thankful to be included in this panel and for the opportunity to take part in the organization of this conference—thanks to the generosity of Cordi-Bel and Manang Yvonne, who graciously welcomed me into the fold.
This sense of welcome speaks to a deeper truth: identity and belonging, as many first- and second generation immigrants would agree, is not a fixed construct but rather fluid—shaped by movement, memory, relationships, and the spaces we inhabit. We often find ourselves navigating the in-between. Abigail Mier, in her talk, referred to this as the feeling of being “half-baked”—of living in a liminal space or a state of limbo that, while sometimes imagined, can also be profoundly generative. If I may put it more colloquially, I sometimes call myself an “FBI”—not Fully-Blooded Igorot, but a “Feeling Blooded Igorot” to underscore the emotionality of belonging and to somehow challenge the conventional notion of kinship as being solely rooted in fixed bloodlines and ancestry. Cordi-Bel has become my extended family here in Belgium, and our kinship is built on affective ties—sustained through mutual respect, shared experiences, and reciprocity.
I will try to keep my presentation a little lighter by talking about the cowboys—an aspect of your culture that is already self-evident to you. I’ll be framing it in terms of how I understand it as a student of culture, without assuming I will offer new insights. Instead, I hope this presentation serves as a reminder of the richness of your culture and the beauty of it—or in this case, the nataraki—that I observed when I tried to inquire into the “ordinary” lives of Igorot immigrants in Belgium.
Cowboy Hats and Migrating Things
The talk that I will give today is part of my research project: “Migrating Things.” I study the circulation of things to and from the Cordillera through the domestic items and other “ordinary” objects that you bring here and send there. As you can see in this photo of the catalogue of objects that I often observed in immigrant homes—alongside various material culture—one item consistently stands out: the cowboy hat. Why? Because at first glance, it might seem like a foreign, Western object, but we could all agree that in many ways, it has become local and distinctly Cordilleran.
I study things because I want to highlight the diversity of mobilities, including material mobilities— that the things immigrants carry have “social lives” (Appadurai 1986; Kopytoff 1986), and “mobile itineraries” (Joyce and Gillespie 2015) as well. Like their human counterpart, they also undergo assimilation or resistance and remaking or unmaking of identities as they undergo assimilation or resistance and remaking or unmaking of identities.
Here, I would like to quote the 3Ts editors (Manang Yvonne, et al.) who eloquently captured the meaning of “uprooting and regrounding” (Ahmed, et al. 2003) as experience, and as a process of “...trying to make sense of our journey in a foreign land removed from [our indigenous land and the]
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culture we grew up in, compelled to find out who we are, and what we have become...” Macky Lacbawan, in his talk, beautifully understood this as the “indigenous double bind.”
Wearable Identities
How do we see rootedness and regrounding in the “cowboy” persona embraced by many of you? If you step into any authentic local bar in the Cordillera, along Session Road in Baguio, or particularly near Kayang-Hilltop in the public market—and I recently visited the Cowboy Honkytonk Bar in Km. 6, La Trinidad—you’ll find that kinoboyan remains vibrantly alive. You’ll often see men and women—both young and young at heart—channeling the timeless style of Manong Arthur, as captured in the photo below: cowboy hats, plaid shirts, rugged leather or denim jackets, and well
worn boots, all tied together with other essentials and immaterial accessories.
Step into any dap-ay around the world, and you’ll find the same familiar vibe: the iconic cowboy attire and the comforting sounds of Ibaloi and Kankanaey country music that instantly make you feel at home. And of course, no gathering feels complete without someone strumming Country Roads—a song that immigrants often know even more intimately than the Cordillera Hymn.
And of course, this spirit—and the distinctively taraki style—travels far beyond the Cordillera. Take Manong Ric, Manong Peter, and Manong Max for example. They are often dressed in cowboy inspired attire, though with a distinctly European flair. Yet, no matter the setting or the porma, the Igorot essence remains. We could all agree that it is not just in the clothes—it is in the way they carry themselves, the stories they tell, and the values that they nurture.
The Cowboy in Everyday Discourse
Historically speaking, dressing like cowboys is part of the larger postcolonial narrative on imitation and imagination of the American West (also see Gondola 2016). However, I will not delve deeper into the history of Benguet being a cowboy town when the American troops who served as mining engineers in Benguet mines came from Texas or Arizona, or the Cariños owning horses in their big rancherias that we now call Baguio (see Finin 2005). I am more interested to look at the idea of “cowboy” as a specific way of life among Cordillerans.
While the Cordillerans have adopted a Western sartorial style that appears tailor-made for the rugged mountain life, being a “cowboy” embodies a deeper, culturally rooted ideal of virtuous masculinity, although it is not always gender-specific. In everyday discourse, the term “cowboy” or in our pronunciation “koboy” is part of daily language, and functions not only as a noun or an adjective but also as a verb, signalling a practical, no-nonsense approach to life. It represents an unwritten code of conduct—an intuitive “how to be a cowboy” ethos.
For example:
• Eat like a cowboy means to eat without fuss—grab what’s available, use your hands if needed, and make do with any space, not necessarily a dining table.
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• Sleep like a cowboy means to rest wherever possible—on a couch, the floor, or any available spot, without complaint.
• Think like a cowboy means to be resourceful—to act quickly, solve problems independently, and avoid wasting time.
Of course, you already know all of these. But seeing it in this way make the term koboy or kinoboyan mean so much more. It is a moral compass and a cultural shorthand for resilience, adaptability and action. It toughens character and mobilizes individuals to face
life’s challenges with grit and grace.
However, this is not to further romanticize the concept of resilience—especially when people are often left with no choice but to adapt to difficult circumstances shaped by topography, natural disasters, and economic insecurity. However, the root of the problem is more political than geographical. The term “resilience” is frequently celebrated, often used to aestheticize poverty. It is an elegant euphemism that underscores the endurance and adaptability of indigenous peoples, while obscuring the stark realities of systemic inequality and oppression, thereby subtly legitimizing continued displacement and out-migration.
The Cowboy as Subversive
Fred Panopio’s Ang Kawawang Cowboy, an adaptation of Glen Campbell’s Rhinestone Cowboy has gained popularity as a communal sing-along. Beneath its humorous lyrics lies a biting critique of poverty, cleverly veiled in satire.
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Ang kawawang cowboy
May baril, walang bala May bulsa, wala namang pera
Ako nga ang cowboy
Palaging nag-iisa
Ang kabayo ay walang paa Ang aking brief ay butas pa
The pitiable cowboy
Has a gun with no bullets
Has a pocket but no money
I am really the pitiable cowboy Always alone
My horse has no legs
Even my underwear has a hole in it
Panopio’s lyrics parody poverty by portraying the cowboy as inherently poor—a view affirmed by my friend that I call Abatan from Sadanga in the Mountain Province, who once served as a missionary scholar Manila and in the Flemish region of Belgium. He insists that an Igorot cowboy like him may be poor but should not be met with pity, but rather should be recognized for his capacity to transcend his condition. With a tone of satire, he shared with me his experience when he attended a private university in Manila:
Dati, ayaw ko talaga mag-aral sa Maynila kahit libre kasi galing ako sa bundok. Mahirap kami doon. Ano ba yun sa Tagalog? Parang taga-baryo, ganun. Nahihiya talaga ako. Eh, ang mga tao doon mga Tagalog, mga sosyal. Ang mga kaklase ko nga ang ko-conyo eh. Eh, ako cowboy syempre! Pero naka-adjust naman ako. Marami nga akong mga kaibigan doon eh... Dinala ko nga para kumain sa karendirya, ay hindi sila marunong! Di ko nga sila madala saamin para mamasyal sila doon pero baka di nila kaya. Baka mamatay siguro ang mga yun! (laughs)
Before, I did not want to study in Manila even if it was free (I received a full scholarship) because I came from the mountain. We were poor. How do you call that in Tagalog? Like someone from the barrio (remote village), like that. I was timid. The people there are Tagalog-speaking upper class. My classmates were conyo (city youth elite who speak with a certain accent) while me, a cowboy of course. But I was able to adjust. Actually, I made many friends there… I brought them (referring to other young men) to eat in the roadside eateries, they don’t know how! I can’t bring them to my hometown for sightseeing because perhaps they couldn’t keep up with the life there, they could die! (laughs)
Abatan gives an interesting category—rural cowboy (poor) vs. city conyo (elite)—suggesting that the vernacular cowboy is in fact a subversion of social class. In his juxtaposition, he suggests that the cowboy embodies adaptability, capable of transitioning from rural to urban environments, whereas the conyo remains confined to the city, unable to adjust beyond its familiar comforts. The cowboy can find ways to sustain himself even in precarious situations, while the conyo may struggle or even starve under similar conditions. The cowboy thrives across diverse settings and circumstances, in contrast to the conyo, who may falter when removed from a privileged lifestyle. In this framing, the elite— portrayed as sheltered and fragile—appear inadequate and disadvantaged when compared to the mobile, resilient, and resourceful poor. This inversion of status becomes a parody of social class, wherein the kawawang cowboy is reimagined as admirable and honorable, while the affluent becomes
the kawawang mayaman—making the cowboys momentarily win a social class structure that defines power and wealth based on haves and have-nots.
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Portable Ethos and the Moral Duty of Immigration
This disposition is even more pronounced among Igorots in the diaspora. I think Manong Ric, in his notable article, The Unstoppables, has captured this idea when he wrote very specific stories using fictive names of the kudkuderos in Belgium who are always in the hunt for jobs and are working non-stop. And we could foresee how the rest of Manong Ric’s story goes—retiring and going back in the Cordillera doesn’t mean slowing down. In fact, it often marks a new chapter of energy and unstoppable momentum, and thus defying the Western notion of retirement and aging. Among my interlocutors at least, there is no such thing as a fixed timeline. Aging is not seen as a limitation—it is simply another stage of life where one continues to work non-stop in order to continue helping and giving.
The immigrants are indeed unstoppable—the modern-day cowboys who are constantly on the move. Yet this restlessness is not simply a matter of being work-driven, or because Igorots are resilient and poor. Not at all. Social mobility is multidimensional and should not be understood solely in terms of vertical mobility or hierarchical ascent within the social ladder (Noret 2020).
Instead, this restlessness is a social fact, deeply rooted in an ethics of care, of inayan – a culture of sharing and giving. It is shaped by a strong sense of moral responsibility carried by Igorots abroad, a responsibility that is both honored and, at times, trivialized in local narratives. For many immigrants, the expectation to give back becomes internalized. Acts of giving—whether through remittances, gifts, balikbayan boxes, or other forms of support—become ongoing obligations, driven by an unrelenting sense of duty to provide for two households: here and there. This is a culturally grounded response to the symbolic weight of being “abroad.” Immigration’s hardships are often obscured by grand narratives that equate living and working overseas with success and prestige, where “the West becomes the locus of wealth” (Newell 2012). As a result, a persistent expectation emerges: that kakailians living overseas are inherently privileged and thus perpetually positioned to give.
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The Modern Cowboys
What about the second generation? In many ways, they might be considered fortunate—somehow shielded from the intense expectations placed on the first generation. Yet, they face their own complex struggles, often caught in the liminal space of feeling “in-between.” They are likewise actively articulating their identities in meaningful and creative ways. The cultural projects and artistic expressions they produce—whether coming from a place of anxiety, uncertainty, or an imagined closeness or distance are intentional efforts to engage with, reinterpret, and reclaim their cultural heritage.
One great example is the “Torogi Talk” podcast. It features conversations among the second generation themselves. In fact, some of them are here today. They are openly exploring their longing for rootedness by trying to understand what it means to be an Igorot when you are born and raised far from the Cordillera. The second-generation often find themselves searching for a sense of belonging both here and there. In one of their podcast episodes on “Igorots and Country Music,” one speaker shared:
This reflection reveals something deeper: the evolving and dynamic relationship between culture and identity. Whether consciously recognized or not, the second- and third generations are inheriting— and subtly reshaping—their own interpretations of cowboy values. These expressions may not always be deliberate or fully articulated, but they often emerge in subtle, unconscious ways, gradually surfacing over time.
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I join Macky in affirming that the ICBE conferences serve as vital “bridges” to these feelings of estrangement and “paralysis”—connecting Igorots across diasporas and distances, and helping the second-generation like Abi overcome the tensions, discomfort and anxieties of relentlessly feeling “half-baked.” These gatherings are more than just social events and consultations; they are recreations of the ili—reminding us that identity and community can flourish across borders.
Conclusion: Cowboys without Guns
The Western construction of cowboy masculinity, as epitomized in the Old West, did not lead to the emergence of gangs, ‘Yankees,’ ‘Bills,’ or performative violence—as compared to the cowboy expressions observed in other global contexts (see, for example, Gondola 2016). Instead, the Cordilleran interpretation produced a distinct cultural figure—what I would describe as “cowboys without guns.” This localized adaptation is non-violent, yet it simultaneously offers a defiant and subversive critique of precarity by reimagining the cowboy archetype—not as a figure of rugged individualism, but as a collective symbol of everyday survival and resistance in the face of marginalization and economic vulnerability.
Whether in their ancestral highlands or in diasporic settings, Igorot Cordillerans continue to embrace and reinvent their inherently and uniquely Cordilleran cowboy spirit, turning it into a vibrant, living tradition. It’s a celebration of cultural hybridity, where foreign influences and indigenous roots move in harmony, and the rhythm of the Igorot cowboy spirit rides on, timeless and unstoppable.
Thank you very much for your attention.
References
1) Ahmed, Sara, et.al, 2003.Uprootings/Regroundings: Questions of Home and Migration. Routledge. 2) Appadurai, Arjun. ed. 1986. The Social Life of Things: Commodities in Cultural Perspective. Cambridge University Press.
3) Finin, Gerard. 2005. The Making of the Igorot: Contours of Cordillera Consciousness. Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press.
4) Gondola, Ch Didier. 2016. Tropical Cowboys: Westerns, Violence, and Masculinity in Kinshasa. Indiana University Press.
5) Joyce, Rosemary A. and Susan D. Gillespie, eds. 2015. Things in Motion: Object Itineraries in Anthropological Practice. Santa Fe: School for Advanced Research Press.
6) Kopytoff, Igor. 1986. “The cultural biography of things: commoditization as process.” In The Social Life of Things: Commodities in Cultural Perspective. A. Appadurai (ed.) Cambridge University Press. pp. 64-92.
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7) Newell, Sasha. 2012. The Modernity Bluff: Crime, Consumption, and Citizenship in Côte d’Ivoire. University of Chicago Press.
8) Noret, Joël. 2020. Social Im/Mobilities in Africa: Ethnographic Approaches. New York: Berghahn Books.
Primary Sources
1) Ethnographic Encounters with Cordi-Bel (2023-2025)
2) Travels, Travails and Triumphs of Igorot Cordillerans in Europe, Vol. 1, 2022.
3) Torogi Talks Podcast, 2021.