Post-age
Birthdays are big in the Philippines. Those working in the government (including the University of the Philippines) are even entitled to claim paid leave on birthdays.
But birthdays are cultural, interpreted and celebrated (or not celebrated) in different ways, depending on your ethnic origins. Being multiethnic (Chinese-Filipino), I grew up exposed to the differences in what a birthday means and how it is to be observed or celebrated.
For starters, local Chinese could claim two birthdays a year (but the government’s official birthday leave applies only to the one named in your National Statistics Office certificate). At home, I got used to taking phone calls for my parents, the callers greeting each of my parents on at least two different dates each year, one based on the “Western” calendar and the other from the “Lannang” (“our people,” referring to fellow Filipino-Chinese, a Chinese birthday marked by the lunar calendar). The two calendars are different, so the lunar birthday, as with the lunar New Year, moves each year.
The celebrations are different, too. Traditionally, the Chinese birthday starts off with a simple breakfast of misua and hard-boiled eggs rather than a birthday cake. There are also variations in “birthday noodles,” which you can order in Chinese restaurants.
Less known to non-Chinese is the method of numerical calculation of your age. Rather than being pegged to a certain date, one’s Chinese “age” adds a year over the Western age, and traditionally, you celebrate the additional year with the Chinese New Year. No matter what your birthday is, you add a year to your “Chinese age” every Chinese New Year. The explanation I got for this practice is that your mother carrying you in her womb during her pregnancy counts as a year in your age.
Gift-giving is different, too. The Chinese birthday is celebrated by the celebrant treating friends and relatives to a meal; the richer the person, the more lavish the meal.
But take note, older Chinese prefer to have a simple birthday or none at all because this might draw the attention of malevolent spirits who will then notice: “look, there’s an old one who got away … let’s get him!”
Birthdays have different functions in different cultures. While studying in the Netherlands, I got used to banks asking for my birthday, and showing my passport to “prove” it. Birthdays functioned for identification. And I actually got Dutch people asking why Filipinos liked to tell people they had a birthday coming up.
I would explain that it’s the birthday celebration, a way of expressing thanks for all the bounties of life, especially a full and long life.
On the other hand, this fixation on birthdays may be interpreted as “yabang,” showing off power and wealth, and for officials, soliciting gifts while displaying wealth and power. Remember that police general who was heavily criticized for insisting on celebrating his birthday during the COVID-19 pandemic?
I thought of all these cultural variations with birthdays while watching a Netflix series “Younger” about a woman faking her age as 26 rather than 41 because she had difficulty getting a job in a youth-oriented sector: marketing. That got her into all kinds of problems with office mates and personal relationships. At one point, one of her friends tries to console her during a crisis over her real age, pointing out that birthdays are really “age-relative.” Birthdays are what you and culture make of them. You want to feel like you’re 26 rather than 41; your chances of success or failure depend on what society allows you to manipulate—from Botox to high fashions—but these can only go so far. In this 21st century, we’ve transcended age.
Next birthday around, if asked how old you just turned, you can get philosophical and answer, “I’m age-relative.”
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