By: Richard Gabrintina
In a two-room apartment near downtown Norfolk, soft rhythmic guitar strums danced playfully alongside the sounds of pans clanking against a bustled countertop. Joao Gilberto played from the speakers as Jimel Iglesia stretched her arms to offer a hug and flashed a bright smile.
Iglesia is the Sandok Sentient. Self-described as “a self-taught chef, recipe developer, and holistic health coach,” her mission is to invite others with her on a transformative journey toward a total state of balance—mind, body and soul. Her unique methodology incorporates an intimate approach of self-wellness comprised of cuisine and self-care. Sandok Sentient is a celebration of the self and the appreciation of life.
“Sandok refers to the Tagalog term for any serving utensil, the act of just serving food, and then sentient refers to my passion for being kind to all things that are able to feel and perceive,” Iglesia said.
Iglesia began her plant-based lifestyle in 2016 and hasn’t looked back—the decision resulting from the combination of her passion for all sentient beings and her love for culture and cuisine. For her, intersecting Filipino cuisine and plant-based foods is a way to perfect her craft and brings immense joy from creating recipes that aren’t typically vegan. For Filipino-Americans, it’s uncommon to embrace both the culture and cuisine of the Philippines and a commitment to a plant-based lifestyle.
“At first I was scared because I was really excited to start a plant-based lifestyle because just practicing my ethics really meant a lot to me,” Iglesia explained. "I really wanted to put myself forward to be able to make a change. But, I was scared because you guys know that Filipino food has a whole bunch of meat in it, and is meat-based, or has a lot of patis [fish sauce] in it. So, it’s like how am I going to enjoy dinuguan or kare-kare the same again?”
In 2017, Rappler reported that the average Filipinx consumes about 64 pounds of meat annually—pork being the most produced meat, followed by chicken, chicken eggs, cattle and carabao.
“It’s definitely a cultural barrier because first-generation Filipinos or my parents, whenever I brought up why I was vegan, it was something that didn’t click to them or bring any interest to them,” said Iglesia.
A 2018 CNN Philippines article covered the topic of veganism, referencing Huffington Post’s inclusion of the Philippines in its list of “The 13 Worst Countries to Visit as a Vegan.” While there is an increasing shift toward adopting veganism, the general perception still remains—it’s a lifestyle reserved for the wealthy and it lacks nutritious value:
Aside from access, veganism is still viewed as a lifestyle only possible for the rich, given the costlier plant-based and gourmet alternatives to your everyday food choices. Veganism has also been criticized by its opponents as a nutrient-deficient diet, stating that the consumption of meat and animal by-products is necessary in order to receive all the necessary nutrients.
In America, there isn’t much visibility for Filipinos who are vegan or follow a plant-based lifestyle. Aside from Sandok Sentient, there is another that combines veganism and traditional Filipino cooking.
“I found one other person,” Iglesia said as she smiled. “Her name is RG [Enriquez]. She’s Astig Vegan on YouTube, and she inspired me to go forward. She was able to show me that it’s able to be done.”
Overall, there is still a lack of representation within the vegan community. Communities of color are often excluded from the mainstream, a topic covered in a Thrillist’s 2018 article, “The Vegan Race Wars: How the Mainstream Ignores Vegans of Color.” Author Khushbu Shah wrote that despite celebrities of color bringing attention to veganism there is still exclusion:
Even with that much star power, mainstream veganism still manages to elbow out vegans of color as it's convenient. In the most striking example, foods most associated with vegan meals -- crumbly blocks of tofu, fluffy quinoa, pots of chia pudding, "wraps" made from collard greens instead of tortillas, pulled-pork sandwiches made from jackfruit -- originated in communities of color who have been eating these items for hundreds of years before they were plucked and reclothed as "superfoods" or clever meat alternatives, stripping of them of their identities.