THE easiest way to know what a society is afraid of is to learn about their ‘horror’.
Horror narratives are the reflection of a culture’s norms, taboos, and dominant beliefs. They tend to exploit the concept of the ‘abject’— a thing that arouses negative emotions such as fear and disgust— to terrify people and reinforce the prevailing beliefs of a society. Moral beliefs and social trends often show up in horror as the monsters we have to beat.
For example, in Dracula, the vampire count is often regarded as a metaphor for sexual liberation. His victims are almost always women, who would shed their innocent persona once infected by his evil. This reflects the Victorian Era’s view of sexuality. Defeating Dracula, a vampire that oozes sexual charisma and seduces young soon-to-be-married women, was the Victorian folks’ way of negotiating with their fear. It served as their warning to others— especially to young women— to avoid engaging in pre-marital intercourse before marriage.
But what if horror isn’t just a way to ease our fears? What if it’s also a means to address the anxieties stemming from a society’s collective guilt— say, for example, the mistreatment of the Filipino diaspora?
The number of Overseas Filipino Workers (OFWs) has seen an influx since the beginning of the Labor Export Policy program in 1974 under the Marcos regime. What was supposed to be a temporary solution to the unemployment crisis in the country became permanent due to the country’s failure to develop an export-oriented manufacturing sector. Labor exports became a big contributor in the economy, powering its tremendous growth.
However, alongside the rise in labor export, cases of domestic violence and maltreatment also increased. Many Filipinos were subjected to abuse by their foreign employers, just like Sarah Balabagan who killed the employer who tried to rape her. Some were even victimized in human trafficking schemes, like the recently returned Mary Jane Veloso who was duped into carrying a suitcase containing illegal drugs. There are also cases where big corporations bring their business in the country to exploit the locals, subjecting them to unfair wages and inhumane labor conditions.
The rampant abuses suffered by OFWs made it to news headlines time and time again. But what’s interesting is that they were also reflected in the horror narratives, not just of the Philippines, but of other countries as well.
In this article, we will examine how international horror films such as The Maid (2005) and Nocebo (2022) depict cultural anxieties surrounding the employment of Overseas Filipino Workers (OFWs) through the lens of foreign cultures, including those of the West and our more developed Asian neighbors. Meanwhile, we will also explore the urban legend of Maria Labo, delving into Filipinos’ own fears about the return of their abused countrymen.
Just a warning: there are spoilers ahead.
The Fear of the Filipino ‘Other’
‘Other’ is a term used to refer to those who do not share our identity, those who do not fit neatly into the defined boundaries of our known culture. They’re the aliens from another planet who have green, slimy skins. The cannibals in the rural jungles of a far-off country. The vampire who speaks in a thick Eastern accent.
‘Others’ are those who we’ve been conditioned to fear because they’re so different from us. They are often the product of racial and societal bigotry.
The Irish film Nocebo (2022) by Lorcan Finnegan uses this device to conjure horror. It tells the story of Christine, a fashion designer who suffers from a mysterious illness after encountering a stray dog filled with ticks. When a Filipino nanny named Diana arrives to help, she brings with her traditional folk healing rituals that alienate her family.
It is obvious that Diana is the abject in the film, the one which causes horror for the characters and the audiences. The film categorized her as the ‘other’— her superstitions, mannerisms, and traditions were something to be feared.
For the Westerners, Diana is the ‘Other’, the horror stemming particularly from her Filipino culture: the incantations in Bisaya language, the folk medicines and practices, and her perceived connection to natural elements.
Nocebo gives us a glimpse on how the West sees OFW— traditional, backward, and primitive— so contrary from Western’s ‘rational’ and scientific preference.
The Guilt of Developed Countries
Contrary to Nocebo, Kelvin Tong’s The Maid (2005) positioned ‘Otherness’ in their own society, specifically in the Chinese dimension of their Singaporean culture.
The Maid revolves around Rosa, an OFW who accepts a job as a maid in Singapore. She helps to take care of Teo’s family mentally disabled son. Her nightmare starts during the Ghost month, when the family’s previous Filipino maid haunts her.
The horror from The Maid is not about Filipino culture this time, but on the Chinese family’s odd customs and superstitions. But the terror still arises from the ghost of the murdered Filipina maid, Esther, who was raped and murdered by Ah Soon (Teo family’s son).
But The Maid has more to tell us than just its social norms and taboos— it shows us the prevailing guilt in Singapore’s national psyche about how they treat the OFWs. We can even go so far as to say that The Maid is Singapore’s attempt to negotiate with its national anxieties caused by real-life events.
In a study by Kenneth Paul Tan of Singaporean Horror Cinema and National Anxieties, he argues that The Maid is reflective of the Singaporean anxiety about the diplomatic row between Singapore and the Philippines in 1995, concerning the OFW Flor Contemplacion. Flor Contemplacion was a Filipina domestic worker who was convicted to death by Singaporean courts due to allegedly killing a Filipina maid and three-year old boy she was babysitting. This case highlighted the plight of OFWs working in their country, who suffered from low wages and poor working conditions.
By letting Esther get justice from her employer, and Rosa escaping the horrible fate suffered by her predecessor, Singapore negotiates with their repressed guilt concerning their treatment of the OFWs, as well as putting their familial responsibilities in the hands of these abused, and poorly-paid employees.
Repression of guilt is also a running theme in Nocebo. In the end, we learned that Diana was avenging the death of her daughter who died from a clothing factory that burned down. Like Rosa and Esther in The Maid, Diana was also a victim of poor and abusive labor conditions imposed by their foreign employer. Christine’s instruction to lock the door of the factory to avoid workers from stealing goods has caused the life of Diana’s child.
Both the Maid and Nocebo show the awareness of international communities to the plight of Filipino workers. In fact, they are guilty of it. Horror films become their way to ease this guilt and the anxieties that follow it.
Maria Labo & the OFW as an ‘aswang’
You would’ve thought that the ‘Otherness’ endured by abused OFWs would wane once they return home and be with their families. But sadly, that’s not the case. The urban legend of Maria Labo proves that OFW suffers from being ‘othered’ even by their own culture, due to the abuse they live through while working abroad.
The story of Maria Labo has different versions but the premise goes like this: Maria Labo is a domestic worker in some Arab country (some named the country as Kuwait). She suffered abuse in the hands of her employers (in other versions, she was raped). When she returns home in the Philippines to her husband and children, she’s not the same anymore.
One day, in a fit of rage, Maria Labo killed her own children. She cooked them into an adobo dish, which she fed to her unsuspecting husband. When the husband discovered her crime, he was in anguish. He ran after Maria and slashed her face with a machete, injuring her. Maria was able to escape, and until now, she’s roaming the streets of the province to find her next victim.
In some stories, Maria was infected by her employer with an evil power. In others, Maria was given power by a fellow Filipino to become an aswang so she can protect herself.
No matter the version, one thing remains the same: Maria is ‘othered’ by her own kin and blood, by the same culture that gave her roots. She no longer shares the same identity. She no longer belongs to the same box. Her experience with the abuse has altered the way her own people see her.
Horror has shown us how different cultures view OFWs. From being ‘othered’ to being subjected to poor and abusive labor conditions, it taught us the social trends and perspective on how the Filipino diaspora is perceived by foreigners and by Filipinos themselves.
While ghosts, witches, and aswangs may be frightening, the real horror lies in the violence, abuse, and loneliness OFWs endure just to survive and provide for their loved ones.
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