In today’s world of viral moments and outrage, one wrong comment can quickly turn someone into the internet’s favorite punching bag. Just ask Aly, a 28-year-old who is now the unfortunate face of the internet’s rage machine after a clip from the YouTube dating show Pusuan or Laruan resurfaced. In it, Aly rejects a potential match because he starts speaking in Filipino, claiming she’s an “Englishera” and fears she’ll overwhelm him with her English. Cue the angry Facebook or TikTok posts and fiery Reddit rants tearing her apart—this quickly escalated into a full-blown online mobbing, revealing how social media can amplify the smallest friction into a public spectacle, especially when it touches on the Philippines’ complicated relationship with the English language as a measure of social status.
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A Balloon Pop Pops Off Online Drama
Aly, a contestant on Pusuan or Laruan, a YouTube dating show hosted by Marion Aunor, recently found herself at the center of an online controversy after a moment on the show went viral. On Pusuan or Laruan, contestants are introduced to a potential match while holding a balloon, which they pop to signal disinterest. When Aly met Ian, a school instructor, she chose to pop her balloon after he began speaking in Filipino. Explaining her decision, Aly stated, “I’m an Englishera…halata. I can come off as strong to a lot of people that I try dating. They find me strong, as in nosebleed…I get that a lot, and it doesn’t offend me. I feel like baka maka-overwhelm ka sa akin. And baka maka-overwhelm ako sa ‘yo kapag straight Tagalog.”
In reply, Ian calmly mentioned that he was fluent in both English and Tagalog, as he teaches international students. Aly quickly retracted her rejection and asked for her balloon back.
The clip triggered a wave of judgment from Filipino netizens. Suddenly, the internet had a new villain—the comment sections exploded with backlash, accusing her of elitism. Reddit threads exploded with users calling her out, with some claiming that her aversion to speaking Filipino was a sign of her inflated self-worth. One Reddit user even argued that her discomfort with speaking the national language suggested she thought too highly of herself. One balloon pop turned into a public spectacle where Aly’s choice of language became the focal point for online rage.
The Colonial Hangover
Is this really about Aly’s English proficiency, or does it tap into the Philippines’ complex love-hate relationship with the English language? English in the Philippines is more than just a tool for communication; it’s a symbol of status and a symbol of proximity to the West. For years spanning millenia, the Philippines has been heavily influenced by American colonial rule, and with that came several eras of idolizing English as the language of the educated and the elite. Unfortunately, this is baked into our collective psyche. English was so deeply ingrained into our systems during American rule that, even post-independence, we continued to elevate it as the gold standard.
As a global hub for BPOs and a key player in overseas labor markets, the Philippines’ relationship with English has undeniable economic significance. The Philippine Labor Code, passed in 1974, laid the foundation for the country’s labor migration policies, emphasizing the need for proficiency in English to work abroad. This policy helped shape the landscape of overseas Filipino workers (OFWs), who depend on English to succeed in international markets. Additionally, according to a Pearson report last year, Filipinos scored above the global average in English proficiency. But while English may offer upward mobility, the reality is that it’s nothing extraordinary in the Philippines—millions of Filipinos speak it daily as part of their livelihood, particularly in BPOs.
Yet, the truth remains: English is a marker of social capital. Aly’s comment, while intended as a personal preference, struck a nerve because it highlighted how deeply we still equate fluency with status. It brings to the surface the lingering colonial mindset, where we were once told to aspire to be like our American colonizers. And although English is undeniably useful in today’s world, it is often wielded as a weapon of exclusion, especially when one’s ability to speak it is scrutinized. Aly’s aversion to speaking Filipino was perceived as elitism—something not helped by her reliance on English as a point of pride.
This online debate reveals the uncomfortable truth about how language and status are intertwined in the Philippines. English isn’t just for job applications and international business deals; it’s an unspoken measuring stick for social value. Why is it a turn-off if a potential interest can’t speak in ‘straight’ English? Why should hearing someone speak in Filipino be overwhelming? Despite English being deeply ingrained in the national consciousness, Filipino speakers are just as essential, especially in the fields of education, governance, and even in outsourcing, where fluency in Filipino is key to connecting with local customers. In fact, the Philippines has long needed a balanced approach to both languages, and that’s part of what makes the backlash against Aly’s comment so puzzling.
The Culture of Smart-Shaming: When English Feels Like a Crime
The issue becomes more complex because there’s some truth to Aly’s statement that English can be intimidating. It’s not uncommon for Filipinos to experience what’s known as “nosebleed” moments when conversing in English, leading to ridicule or “smart-shaming.” Even Marian Rivera, lauded actress and Miss Universe judge, faced public criticism of her English-speaking skills in 2021, to the point where she needed to defend herself. Smart-shaming is more than just snide remarks; it’s rooted in the cultural value of hiya—the feeling of shame that discourages individuals from stepping outside of socially acceptable norms. English is still largely reserved for professional settings, and deviating from that by using it casually can sometimes make people uncomfortable. In a collectivist culture like ours, we tend to shut down anything that feels different, especially in a time when differing opinions are easily perceived as personal attacks.
That’s the kicker: Aly’s comment didn’t just lead to a debate about language and status. It escalated into an all-out internet roast where a comment quickly morphed into a mass bullying campaign. Online users started dissecting every part of her—her appearance, her personality, her intentions. Suddenly, the focus wasn’t on what she said or why, but on everything about her that people could tear down.
The Price of One Misstep Online
What happened next was a classic case of internet pile-on. People didn’t just disagree with her views; they made her the target of a full-scale online attack. And once the mob mentality takes hold, it’s hard to stop. Her appearance was dissected in ways that were nasty and unnecessary. Her personality was mocked. No detail was too small for critique—and while some people were debating the deeper cultural issues surrounding language and status, others were just eager to participate in the outrage.
This is the dark side of social media—a single comment or a tiny misstep, and suddenly, someone becomes the main character of an exhausting online discourse. The real tragedy here is not just the fact that Aly’s comment became a lightning rod for cultural debates, but that it spiraled into a full-blown attack on her identity. It’s a reminder of how quickly we can reduce someone to just their most controversial moment, without considering the context or the complexities behind it. In the age of online mobs, a single slip-up can lead to a barrage of judgment that goes far beyond the original issue—and that’s something we all need to think about as we scroll through our feeds and click send.
Photos and Featured Image: IMDB
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