I’ve never seen myself so clearly in a film before, and it hurts. Bambanti hit like a gut punch because I was Popoy. When I was six, living poor in Makati, a neighbor’s uncle accused me of stealing money from a cabinet I couldn’t even reach. I didn’t do it. But that didn’t matter. I was just the poor kid, the easiest one to blame. My mom defended me like her life depended on it, just like Belyn did, and I’ll never forget the way she told me I could never play with that girl again. Watching this brought all that back, the shame, the anger, the confusion of being judged just for being poor. And that’s what Bambanti captures so painfully well: how dignity becomes a fragile thing when you don’t have much to begin with. The scarecrow isn’t just a symbol, it is us, standing guard over lives people already assume are dirty or broken. This film isn’t just social commentary, it’s memory. And it stings.
I’ve never seen myself so clearly in a film before, and it hurts. Bambanti hit like a gut punch because I was Popoy. When I was six, living poor in Makati, a neighbor’s uncle accused me of stealing money from a cabinet I couldn’t even reach. I didn’t do it. But that didn’t matter. I was just the poor kid, the easiest one to blame. My mom defended me like her life depended on it, just like Belyn did, and I’ll never forget the way she told me I could never play with that girl again. Watching this brought all that back, the shame, the anger, the confusion of being judged just for being poor. And that’s what Bambanti captures so painfully well: how dignity becomes a fragile thing when you don’t have much to begin with. The scarecrow isn’t just a symbol, it is us, standing guard over lives people already assume are dirty or broken. This film isn’t just social commentary, it’s memory. And it stings.
