At face value, Bea (not her real name) blends in with the crowd. Her features — medium-tan skin, jet black hair, monolid eyes, and a wide nose — are common among her compatriots in the Philippines. It’s her speech, however, that marks her as an Other.

“If I’m talking to someone and I’m failing in explaining in Filipino,” says Bea, “I tell them honestly, ‘Wait, can I explain it in English?’” Bea’s accent is not American, but when she stammers in Tagalog, the words don’t sound quite right. Her vowels and consonants are rounded and softened, lacking the natural edges of the Filipino tongue.

Among acquaintances, colleagues, and even friends, Bea is considered an inglisera — a loaded term. Derived from “Ingles,” and the Filipino suffix “-era/o,” it refers to someone who, either by choice or inability, speaks only in English. In a country with a high English proficiency rate, the moniker implies that mastery of only English — and, in turn, ignorance of the national Filipino language — is shameful.

Bea’s upbringing was, all circumstances of the Filipino upper-middle class considered, quite ordinary. Her mother is from the province of Benguet, her father from Bicol. They and their three daughters (Bea was the middle child) settled in Cainta, Rizal. They enjoyed visits to their farm in nearby Tanay, vacations abroad, and the convenience of drivers and housekeepers. English was the children’s first language, while Filipino was used only when necessary.

“The only time we would speak Tagalog is with our maids, and it’s just the basic ones,” says Bea. She cites the limited domestic scope of her speech, deployed only to request and demand. “Ate, pagising, pakain, paluto. And it’s always like pa- with the verb.” Even at an early age, her Filipino already lagged behind. “If it’s not everyday use, it would pass and go from my head.”

“I didn’t even know teleseryes were a thing until, let’s say, high school,” Bea admits. “I really focused more on Nickelodeon, Cartoon Network.” Keeping up with local movies requires extra effort, simply because she finds it difficult to understand the dialogue. “One More Chance, I wanna watch it only if there are subtitles.”

Bea is not alone. In the country’s major cities, it’s not uncommon to meet Filipinos who speak exclusively in English. They are typically young and affluent, hailing from exclusive schools and gated subdivisions. The phenomenon did not come out of nowhere, but is more than a hundred years in the making. It’s a consequence of the nation’s complicated and often painful history with American colonialism.