Followers/Members

Tuesday, May 20, 2025

How Filipino Soap Operas Turned Our Emotions Into Primetime Propaganda

How Filipino Soap Operas Turned Our Emotions Into Primetime Propaganda

(From FB post of Teddy Adarna on 05/10/2025) 


Let’s begin with a humble question:

At what point did we collectively decide that emotional maturity is less important than a good old-fashioned catfight in a hospital lobby?


Welcome to the Philippines—a country where families don’t heal, they just monologue dramatically until commercial break.


Yes, I’m talking about our national addiction: the Filipino teleserye. That never-ending genre of primetime purgatory where everyone cries in HD, slaps are heard across generations, and nobody, I repeat nobody, ever goes to therapy.


Act I: The School of Suffering


Filipino soap operas are not just shows. They are emotional universities. Except the curriculum is outdated, the professors are martyrs, and the final exam is whether you can forgive your cheating husband while on life support.


Every night, millions of Filipinos tune in—not just to be entertained, but to be indoctrinated into the Religion of Suffering. In this sacred faith, the Virgin Mother has been replaced by Lorna Tolentino, who absorbs betrayal, poverty, and vehicular accidents without ever calling a lawyer.


In teleserye logic, if you’re not suffering, you’re not doing life right. You must earn love through pain, endurance, and passive-aggressive stares while the Ave Maria plays softly in the background.


Act II: Family is Sacred, Even When It’s a Dumpster Fire


Teleseryes have taught us that family is everything—especially if they’re toxic. Your father may have abandoned you, your brother stole your inheritance, and your mother sold you to a syndicate—but at the end of the day, “pamilya pa rin ’yan.”


We’ve turned the dysfunctional family into a national treasure. We treat red flags like rose petals. Gaslighting? That’s just “pagmamahal na sobra.” Emotional abuse? “Ganyan talaga ang tatay mo.”


No wonder half the country can’t cut off their narcissistic uncle who keeps running for barangay captain like it’s his birthright. Blame the teleserye. It’s been telling us for years that loyalty to pain is a virtue.


Act III: Confrontation, But Make It Cinematic


In teleseryes, problems are never solved—they’re performed.


A normal, healthy adult might say:


“Hey, let’s talk about what happened. I feel hurt.”


A teleserye character says:


“PINAGPALIT MO AKO?!? SA KATULONG?!?”

cue thunder, choir, and a slow pan to a close-up of betrayal


Because of this, the average Filipino now thinks confrontation must include:

• Screaming

• Throwing a glass of water

• Being Hysterical


Our entire emotional vocabulary has been hijacked by primetime histrionics. If it’s not dramatic, it’s not valid.


Act IV: Emotions Are for Ratings, Not Resolution


Here’s what you’ll never see in a teleserye:

• A couple going to couples therapy

• A character setting healthy boundaries

• A family discussing intergenerational trauma over merienda


Why? Because these are boring. They don’t spike the ratings. So instead, we’re taught that real healing happens when the villain gets run over by karma (or a delivery truck), and the protagonist looks up at the heavens and whispers, “Salamat, Diyos ko.”


In the teleserye universe, healing is not a process—it’s a plot twist.


Act V: A Nation Raised on Trauma Theater


Teleseryes have created a nation where:

• Emotional intelligence is seen as being “cold”

• Boundaries are “disrespectful”

• Resilience is confused with tolerating abuse

• Therapists are either unheard of or mistaken for cult leaders


We don’t heal. We endure. We don’t speak. We explode. And we think love is about who cries the most, not who communicates the best.


It’s no surprise that in our elections, workplaces, and relationships—we don’t choose what works. We choose what’s emotionally satisfying. Which is why we vote for messiahs, date narcissists, and idolize influencers who cry on TikTok over their love lives like they’re starring in their own teleserye spin-off.


Finale: Turn Off the Drama, Turn On the Mirror


Here’s a revolutionary thought:

Maybe it’s time we changed the channel.


What if we created shows that teach us how to talk, not just scream?

How to love, not just long-suffer?

How to heal, not just survive?


Because right now, we are a nation of emotional thespians—trained by the TV to feel too much and reflect too little.


It’s time to break the script.


Closing Line:

Until we learn to write our own emotional stories with complexity, honesty, and nuance, we remain not citizens—but extras in a never-ending soap opera called the Philippines.


And darling, we deserve better roles.

No comments:

Post a Comment