Cordillera Day has long stood as a gathering of indigenous communities in the Cordillera region of the Northern Philippines, asserting their rights to land, life, resources, and self-determination.
Rooted in the legacy of resistance following the killing of Macli-ing Dulag on April 24, 1980, during the indigenous peoples’ struggle against the Chico Dam Project, the annual commemoration has evolved into a space where communities confront ongoing threats to their ancestral domains and strengthen collective action across the region.
In Dalupirip, Itogon, Benguet, Cordillera Day became closely tied to the struggle against the San Roque Dam, a project that would reshape not only the landscape but also the political consciousness of those who grew up in its shadow.
I was one of them.
When our community was affected by the construction of the San Roque Dam along the Agno River, I did not yet understand the language of environmental advocacy or indigenous rights, but I was already living through the dam’s impacts. What I remember were community meetings and conversations about what the dam would mean, including concerns about ancestral lands, livelihoods, and the changes that would come once it was completed in 2003 with support from institutions such as the World Bank. Even then, I was witnessing how a community responds when its land and future are at stake.
By the early 2000s, I became more actively involved in Cordillera Day activities, and by 2005, I was participating in the cultural group Dap-ayan ti Kultura iti Kordilyera (DKK), a regional alliance of cultural organizations. Our work centered on strengthening indigenous culture through music, community theater, and visual arts that engaged with issues affecting our communities, including the defense of ancestral lands, the sustenance of indigenous knowledge systems, and the reinforcement of collective identity. Rooted in lived experience, our creative work supported community education, awareness, and organizing efforts.
Through these early involvements, Cordillera Day became more than an event I attended. It was a space where culture and advocacy came together, where performances, stories, and discussions all pointed to a shared understanding that land, culture, and community are inseparable. It was also where I began to see that what we experienced in Dalupirip was part of a wider pattern across the Cordillera, the country, and the rest of the world.
This understanding deepened in 2008, when I joined Cordillera Day as part of the advance team working with the host community in Baay-Licuan, Abra. At the time, communities were organizing against large-scale mining applications, including those linked to Olympus Mines, and raising concerns about militarization in the area. The issues were consistent with what I had witnessed growing up, particularly threats to ancestral land, water sources, and livelihoods.
What stood out, however, was the strength of the community’s collective response. Decision-making remained rooted in local structures, elders played a central role, and cultural practices were actively asserted in defense of their land. Cordillera Day provided a platform for sharing, strengthening, and connecting these efforts to broader struggles across the region.
In 2009, I joined Cordillera Day in Bakun, Benguet, where communities were opposing Royalco Philippines’ operations. In the lead-up to the event, our team worked closely with the women’s sector to create spaces for dialogue and preparation. This experience, distinct from my earlier work focused on cultural preparation in 2008, deepened my appreciation of how women anchor both community life and collective action, ensuring that concerns over land, water, and livelihoods remain central. Their participation strengthened organizing processes and reinforced solidarity across the community.
Across these experiences, what became clear was the importance of continuity. The lessons from Dalupirip, shaped by the experience of the struggle against the San Roque Dam, were not confined to one place. They became part of a shared pool of knowledge that could be drawn on in conversations in Abra, Bakun, and elsewhere. At the same time, each community contributed its own perspectives, shaped by its own history and context. This exchange, grounded in lived experience, allowed communities to learn from one another in practical ways.
My involvement over the years gradually grew into what I now understand as cultural activism. In the Cordillera, culture is not separate from struggle. It is embedded in land, in memory, and in the systems that guide community life. Through music, theater, and visual art, we were able to engage with issues in ways that were accessible and rooted in the local context. These forms of expression became tools, not only for awareness but also for strengthening collective identity and participation.
At the same time, working with non-government organizations allowed me to engage more directly in community organizing across the region. This meant traveling to different areas, listening to communities, and sharing experiences from previous struggles, including those from Itogon. The process was always reciprocal. While we shared what we had learned, we also gained new insights from each community we worked with.
What continues to stand out across all these experiences is the strength of collective action. While many of the issues raised during Cordillera Day, whether related to dams, mining, or other forms of development aggression, remain ongoing, communities have continued to organize, adapt, and support one another. Cordillera Day reflects this persistence. It is not only about confronting challenges, but also about sustaining connections and building on shared experiences.
Looking back, the path from being a child witnessing community discussions in Dalupirip to becoming part of cultural and organizing work across the Cordillera was not something I initially planned. It developed over time, shaped by the spaces I was part of and the people I learned from. Cordillera Day was one of those spaces, one that continues to bring together different threads of experience into a broader understanding of what it means to defend land, life, and resources.
In this way, the story of Cordillera Day, from Dalupirip to Abra to Bakun, remains ongoing. Today, it is carried forward by communities who continue to organize, by cultural workers who sustain identity and memory, and by collective efforts that turn shared challenges into shared action.
