Pakikipagkapwa in the Basque Country: Gendered Homemaking and Postcolonial Belonging among Filipino Domestic and Care Workers

The Science of "Home" in a New Land

Imagine you are trying to build a house, but you don't have a blueprint, and the land you're standing on feels strange and cold. This is the daily reality for millions of people who move to a new country to work. In the world of social science, researchers study how these people don't just survive, but actually make a place feel like "home." This isn't just about finding a roof over your head; it's about the invisible emotional and social work of creating a sense of belonging.

To understand this, we need to know a few key ideas. First, there's the concept of homemaking. Think of this not as cleaning a house, but as the act of weaving a safety net of friends, food, and traditions that makes a foreign city feel familiar. Second, there's the idea of postcolonialism. This is like a long, complicated family drama where a former "parent" country (like Spain) once ruled over a "child" country (like the Philippines). Even after the child grows up and moves away, they still share the same language, religion, and customs, but they see them through their own unique eyes. Finally, there's pakikipagkapwa. This is a Filipino word that is hard to translate perfectly, but imagine it as a superpower of "shared self." It's the belief that you and I aren't two separate people; we are part of the same big puzzle. If you are happy, I am happy; if you are hurting, I feel it too.

Why does this matter? Because most people think moving to a new country means you have to forget who you were to fit in. But this research asks a different question: What if the secret to fitting in isn't changing yourself, but bringing your own unique "shared self" to the table and seeing how it changes the room?

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The Story of the Filipino Care Workers in the Basque Country

In the rainy, grey coastal towns of the Basque Country in Spain, a group of Filipino domestic and care workers are doing something magical. They are taking the heavy, invisible work of caring for other people's families and turning it into a vibrant, communal celebration of their own. A researcher named Gian Paulo Paglinawan went there to listen to ten specific workers and watch how they live. What he found is a story about how they use their ancient cultural superpowers to build a home in a place that used to be their colonizer's house.

Important Note: Because this study focused on just ten people, the findings are a deep, detailed look at their specific experiences. While these stories are powerful, they represent a small slice of the Filipino community and shouldn't be taken as a rule that applies to every single migrant worker everywhere. Every community is different, and these ten workers' "blueprint" for home is unique to their situation.

The "Shared Self" as a Survival Tool
The workers use a concept called pakikipagkapwa. Imagine you are at a huge party where everyone is speaking a different language and acting like strangers. Instead of feeling lonely, these workers treat everyone they meet as an extension of themselves. They don't just "network" to get a job; they build deep, family-like bonds with other Filipinos. They form groups like sports teams and church fellowships where they share food, sing karaoke, and play traditional games.

One worker, Mutya, explained that when she feels scared or homesick, she looks at her friends and thinks, "They survived this, so I can too." This isn't just about having a buddy; it's a way of saying, "We are all in this together." This "shared self" helps them turn public parks into places that smell like home (with the scent of adobo and biko rice cakes) and makes the grey Basque streets feel a little warmer. It's like they are carrying a portable sun with them, and wherever they gather, the sun shines.

Turning the Colonizer's Religion into Their Own
Here is where the story gets really interesting. The Philippines was ruled by Spain for hundreds of years, and the Spanish brought Catholicism with them. Usually, when people move to a new country, they try to learn the local religion or customs to fit in. But these Filipino workers are doing the opposite. They are taking the very religion the Spanish brought to the Philippines and bringing it back to Spain, but they are remixing it.

Imagine a family recipe that was passed down from a strict grandmother. The Filipino workers take that recipe, add their own secret spices, and serve it at a dinner party in the grandmother's old house. They celebrate Palm Sunday using laurel leaves instead of palm fronds because palms don't grow in the Basque Country. They hold a festival called the Santacruzan where Filipino children dress up as ancient Roman emperors and queens, right inside a Spanish church.

This isn't just copying; it's a clever act of "mimicry." They are saying, "We know your rules, but we are playing the game our way." By doing this, they aren't just following the rules of the house they live in; they are rewriting the rules to make the house feel like their home. They are taking a symbol of their past subjugation and turning it into a tool for their own joy and belonging.

The Heavy Lift of the Women
The paper also points out that this whole operation is run mostly by women. While the men might play basketball or help with the sports, the women are the ones organizing the festivals, leading the church choirs, cooking the massive meals, and keeping the community together. It's a bit like they are the CEOs, the event planners, the chefs, and the emotional support system all rolled into one.

This is a double-edged sword. On one hand, it gives them huge power and respect; they are the architects of their community. On the other hand, it's a massive burden. They are already working long hours caring for other people's families, and then they come home to care for their own community. One worker, Gabriela, described being a mother, a teacher, a wife, a waitress, and a cleaner all at once, until her body finally gave out and she had to go to the hospital. The paper suggests that while this "shared self" is a powerful way to build a home, it can also be used to make people endure unfair treatment. If you feel so connected to your friends that you can't say no, you might stay in a bad job just to keep the peace or to make sure your family back home gets the money you're owed.

The Big Picture
So, what does this all mean? The paper suggests that these workers aren't just "assimilating" or trying to become Spanish. They are doing something more complex. They are using their own cultural tools—like the idea of the "shared self" and their unique version of Catholicism—to build a bridge between their past and their present.

They prove that you don't have to erase who you are to belong. In fact, bringing your whole, hybrid self to the table is what makes the new place feel like home. The paper doesn't say this is a perfect solution or that racism disappears. It admits that these workers still face discrimination and that their "shared self" can sometimes trap them in difficult situations. But it shows that by leaning on each other and reimagining their traditions, they are creating a new kind of belonging that is strong, resilient, and beautifully messy. They are turning a former colonial landscape into a place where they can finally say, "This is home."