As someone who grew up in a small city, I never knew how to explain why my neighbors felt like extended family, or why helping others was something I never considered an act of charity, but something I was expected to do.
It was only years later, when I left my hometown for college and encountered Virgilio Enriquez’s kapwa theory, that these experiences began to make sense. I was finally able to put a name to the experience. What I once thought were unique childhood memories turned out to be expressions of a deeply Filipino way of being—where one’s self is understood as inherently shaped by and inseparable from others.
Enriquez’s concept of kapwa, translated as “shared identity,” goes beyond Western notions of empathy or being one with the community. It is not about simply feeling for others or even performing acts of kindness as a moral obligation, but more about recognizing them as an extension of one’s self. In this particular framework, the boundaries between “self” and “other” blur, and relationships are defined not by distance or roles, but by mutual recognition and shared responsibility.
Thus, to care for someone is, in essence, to care for a part of yourself.
Long before I encountered and read his work, I had already experienced it in practice through the constant presence of a community that had guided me throughout my childhood and taught me values that reflect kapwa: empathy, care, belonging, and a sense of responsibility and reciprocity.
Being an only child, I became accustomed to independence at a very young age. I learned how to navigate the world independently. Yet, paradoxically, this self-reliance existed alongside a community held together by proximity and shared routines. Everyone watched over one another, not out of sheer obligation, but because their lives overlapped, and they knew who belonged where.
My neighbors would check in on me as if we were siblings; adults, regardless of relation, would correct me as if I were their own. Even celebrations and hardships were shared and felt like a personal experience. Kapwa, in this sense, shaped my understanding of relationships even as I learned to stand on my own.
Enriquez also introduced the concepts of ibang tao and hindi ibang tao to describe how dynamics can shift along a spectrum, specifically how one moves from being an outsider to those we come to recognize as our own. To me, outsiders quickly became the latter, since they were immediately welcomed as family and trust was extended almost by default. I experienced belonging not as something I demanded, but something that was naturally given to me, thus teaching me that independence and community are not mutually exclusive.
(Outsiders and one of us.)
Only when I left home did I realize how unique this upbringing was. In more individualistic spaces, warmth could be perceived as an intrusion, and receiving unsolicited support could feel overbearing. This made me conscious of how deeply kapwa had influenced my instincts: to act responsibly; to take notice of others’ needs; to put myself in their position when it mattered; and to see myself as part of a shared world, even as I relied on my resourcefulness.
Looking back, I see now that kapwa is more than a concept. It is a way of living that shapes who we are, how we relate, and understand ourselves in connection with others. Ultimately, my experiences at home are what I consider as lessons about kapwa, as they remain central even as I navigate life on my own outside of my dwellings.
This article was published in The LaSallian‘s January 2026 issue. To read more, visit bit.ly/TLSJan2026.
