Over the past few months, I’ve found myself reflecting on my journey as a writer and cultural events organizer. A deep sense of exhaustion crept in, prompting me to pause, step back, and reconnect with myself. I needed solitude, a break from the relentless demands of organizing literary and film festivals, events I once poured my heart into.
Dr. Alice Tan Gonzales has always reminded me to rest after the literary events I take on. She has long been my idol in Hiligaynon writing and, over time, became a dear friend. Yet, during the whirlwind of book fairs, conferences, and film festivals, I lost sight of what it meant to truly rest. I used to believe that as long as I was busy and enjoying what I was doing, I was also, in some way, recharging. But I learned the hard way that this wasn’t true, not for me.
In the past few months, I’ve embraced significant changes. After nearly four years, I decided to step down as the festival director of CineKasimanwa, a prominent local film festival in Western Visayas. I entrusted the role to a friend whom I know will honor the program’s goals and continue to support regional filmmakers with the same passion. I’ve also been turning down invitations from DepEd and CHED to speak at their events, as I’ve grown disillusioned with the rigidity and resistance to change among many department heads in these agencies. My involvement with the Iloilo Mega Book Fair has shifted; I now play a more limited, yet fulfilling role, mentoring a former student from U.P. High School in Iloilo on contract drafting and book fair management. Lately, I’ve found greater joy in reading and writing about subjects that inspire me, activities that don’t take as much of a physical toll. My only commitments now are teaching my students and attending meetings with the National Committee on Literary Arts, where I proudly represent Western Visayas as an executive committee member.
With more time to reflect, I’ve begun to question certain realities within the creative community. It led me to an important, and deeply personal—realization. I want to open a conversation that I believe is relevant not just to me but also to young and emerging writers and artists in Iloilo: How do we recognize when we’re being valued for our artistry, and when we’re merely being used? How do we discern if the agencies and organizations that claim to support our creative growth are truly our partners, or if they see us as mere instruments to fulfill their own agendas?
Recognizing when we’re being used to serve someone else’s personal agenda isn’t always easy. Many times, we only realize it after we’ve poured our time, energy, and talent into a project, only to be cast aside once our work is done. This is why we must learn to assess people carefully: how they communicate with us, the nature of their invitations, and most importantly, what we truly stand to gain from participating in any artistic endeavor. Before committing to anything, we need to ask ourselves: What will this project bring me in return? Is it aligned with my personal and artistic growth, or am I merely being taken advantage of?
As writers and artists, we have an innate passion for our craft and a natural inclination to help, especially when it comes to projects that promote our discipline. However, this generosity is also what makes us vulnerable. We willingly offer our skills, our creativity, and even our time, often without compensation, believing that our contributions will help a greater cause. But too often, we find ourselves used as tools for someone else’s ambition. Our work benefits others while we are left unrecognized, unappreciated, and unsupported when we need it most.
Through years of organizing arts-related events in Iloilo, I have had my fair share of experiences that made me question my role in various collaborations. Looking back, I now see how my willingness to help was, at times, manipulated. I poured my knowledge and effort into projects that, in the end, were not about the advancement of the arts but about enhancing the public image of certain individuals or organizations. Many of these people no longer have my respect as artists or cultural event organizers. To me, it is a betrayal of the arts to exploit fellow creatives for personal gain. It disgusts me to see them actively participating in cultural events, positioning themselves as supporters of the arts, yet remaining silent when their voices are needed the most—when real, meaningful advocacy is expected of them.
So, how do we know when we’re being used?
First, question the project’s true intent. Who does it genuinely benefit? Why were you specifically chosen when so many other artists could have been tapped? Is your involvement valued, or are you simply a convenient choice? What do you gain in return? Every artist should be able to answer these questions clearly before committing to a project. If the answers are vague or unsatisfactory, it may be a sign that you are being used.
For instance, when a scholar from a university conducts research in an IP community or a filmmaker creates a film within one, and later uses their work to secure a permanent position, win an international award, or receive financial recognition, yet fails to acknowledge or give back to the community that made their success possible, it exposes a troubling pattern of exploitation. This highlights how indigenous communities are often reduced to mere subjects or backdrops for personal and professional gain, while their voices, contributions, and rights are overlooked. Unfortunately, many individuals engage in this practice, prioritizing their achievements over ethical responsibility. This is why we must remain vigilant and proactive in ensuring that IP communities receive the respect, recognition, and tangible benefits they rightfully deserve.
Second, pay attention to how people communicate with you. Do they speak with transparency, or do they seem evasive? Do they openly criticize or undermine other artists and art organizations? If someone feels comfortable badmouthing others in front of you, ask yourself: Why are they doing this? What does this reveal about their character? If they can exploit and belittle others, what’s stopping them from doing the same to you? The moment you notice these red flags, it’s time to reevaluate your involvement.
I had an unsettling experience with a government agency where I was serving as the event coordinator for a significant event in the city. I was called to the office of an acquaintance who informed me that they would be providing me with an honorarium. Upon arriving and receiving the honorarium, I was not even asked to sign an acknowledgment of receipt, something I found particularly troubling, especially since I was in the office of a government agency. This kind of situation is not just alarming, but deeply unsettling. As I walked out of that office, I made a firm promise to myself that I would never return, and I would never accept any future work or partnership from that person. This experience served as a powerful reminder of the importance of respect, transparency, and proper processes in professional relationships. It made me more determined to hold myself and others to a higher standard of integrity.
Third, never hesitate to ask questions. If the people you are dealing with refuse to answer, evade your concerns, or pretend not to hear you, take it as a red flag. It’s better to walk away from the project early on rather than become involved in something where your role is neither valued nor respected. This behavior is a clear indication that they do not trust you and have no regard for your participation. They are merely using you, assuming that you are easy to manipulate and will readily comply with their demands. In situations like this, never place your trust in such individuals or organizations, especially those who claim to be cultural workers yet remain unaware of the real struggles that artists face.
There are countless meaningful projects you can undertake, particularly if you aim to develop your personal portfolio. Choose endeavors that uphold your dignity as an artist rather than exploit your skills and passion. However, if an art-related project is government-funded, such as an art exhibit, a festival, or a book publication—never agree to participate without proper compensation. Even if they insist that there is no budget or that an honorarium is not feasible, they must find a way to pay you for your time, talent, and effort. Your work is not something to be taken for free, reduced to mere gratitude, or, worse, dismissed with nothing more than a certificate of participation.
If you accept a project despite knowing there will be no compensation, I want to believe that it is not your fault, you are a victim of a system that normalizes exploitation. However, if you repeatedly allow this to happen and continuously feel unfulfilled or taken advantage of, it’s time to reflect on whether these engagements truly benefit you or merely drain your talent and energy. Remember, saying “no” is not a sign of weakness. It is an assertion of your worth. If something no longer brings you joy or value, you have every right to walk away.
Fourth, it’s important to assess whether they are genuinely familiar with your work as an artist and cultural worker, whether their interest in you is rooted in appreciation or mere convenience. More often than not, people assume that just because they’ve seen you and your creations on social media, you must be open to anything, including working for free, since your works are already accessible online. Likewise, if you are actively involved in community-driven volunteer projects, they may wrongly assume that compensation is unnecessary, believing you have the time and willingness to extend your efforts without financial recognition.
When engaging in a project, be mindful of individuals who carry this mindset. Their words may seem supportive while the collaboration is ongoing, but once the project is completed, they often disengage, showing little regard for you or the community they have used for their own gain. In the end, after benefiting from your skills and labor, they no longer feel responsible for whether you can pay your electricity or water bills, afford rent, or purchase your maintenance medication. What matters to them is that they have successfully completed their project, secured impressive results for their terminal report,
and ensured their own compensation, all at the expense of an artist or cultural worker who was expected to contribute for free.
Fifth, be cautious of individuals, especially well-known cultural organizers—who, despite their long standing presence in the industry, are only now realizing the importance of community. Some of them have spent years placing themselves on a pedestal, and only recently have they started acknowledging the very people who make up the creative landscape. They suddenly speak out on creatives’ rights, flooding conversations with grand declarations, yet they were never the voices standing up for artists struggling with low or unpaid work. We may not fully grasp their motives, but we must be vigilant against those who prioritize self-preservation and status over genuine advocacy. Many of them operate under the guise of allyship, but their true intentions often revolve around maintaining influence and relevance, using people as mere stepping stones to achieve their own goals.
It is disheartening, but such individuals continue to thrive within our community. They present themselves as kind, concerned, and deeply committed to their respective disciplines. Some hold influential positions in government agencies, others brand themselves as mentors of the arts, and some even claim to be allies of the creative sector, yet their actions often fall short of true solidarity.
My statement should not be perceived as a threat; rather, I intend it as a necessary wake-up call to the harsh realities that continue to shape our art community and its evolving dynamics. It is imperative that we address these issues with the same intensity and intentionality as we approach the growth and development of art within our communities. Art, at its core, is not only about creativity; it is about integrity, responsibility, and the commitment to elevate one another. Only by confronting these uncomfortable truths head-on can we hope to cultivate a creative industry built on authenticity, accountability, and collective progress. Let us not shy away from the challenges, but instead face them with the same resolve we apply to the pursuit of artistic excellence.
(Artwork featured: The Artist, Kristoffer Brasileño, 2024)
