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What the ‘yaya meal’ really says about us

Shakira Sison

This is AI generated summarization, which may have errors. For context, always refer to the full article.

When was the last time your maids and yayas sat with you at the table? Have you ever invited your maid to share lunch with you instead of asking her for more water as you eat? 

There was quite an outrage when it was revealed that an upscale resort had on its menu a meal labeled for its guests’ domestic staff. According to the resort’s proud statement, the “yaya meal” was designed so that their guests could feed their helpers a less costly meal instead of their regular fare of “tenderloin steak and lobster thermidor.”

Online rage is often instant and righteous, so as expected, it came from all directions. Everyone decided to present their opinions about equality, how servants must be treated fairly, and that they deserve to eat as well as their bosses. Talk about dignity and discrimination was thrown around the way it is when there is an opportunity to talk about someone else’s wrongs. 

Netizens condemned the said resort for actually having an item on their menu that was reserved for its guests’ hired help, because it underscored the distinct line between guest-worthy items and what was “good enough” for the help. 

By the act of putting “yaya meal” on the menu, what the resort did was to put into writing how they believe their guests would like to feed their helpers.

Meanwhile, we were angry because someone finally formalized a common practice not only during our excursions, but even in our own homes.  

We are “equal” 

No, you might say, we don’t treat our yayas that way. Our helpers are equal to us and we don’t regard them as second class citizens. Doesn’t it feel good to say these things out loud? 

Let me ask you then: when was the last time your servants and yayas sat with you at the table (when they’re not feeding your children)? Have you ever invited your maid to share lunch with you instead of asking her for more water as you eat. 

In most households, there is a separate grocery list for the staff. While family members eat their meaty dishes and perfectly white rice, there is fried fish or paksiw (fish stew) in the dirty kitchen offered to maids and drivers.

The help eat only after the family has eaten, and usually out of sight. They eat quickly, using their hands, sharing whatever dish there is at hand. The maids are careful not to tap into the food meant for their employers. The staff makes sure they are not seen eating too much.

Not exempted

Growing up, I had a yaya I adored and regarded as one of my parents. Still, as the most valuable staff member in our household, it was clear that she could only cut my steak and not eat it. She could only peel my shrimp but not taste it. If my rice was too hot for her to spoon into my mouth, she would first blow on it, smelling it and feeling the heat of the savory dish on her lips, but it would always land inside my mouth and not in hers. 

She would never have dared to order her own dish when we were out. “Kahit ano, ate/ma’am,” helpers usually say. (Anything, ate/ma’am.) This is usually our cue to order an inexpensive item on the menu or to just let them eat at home later. 

Better yet, we just give the maid and the driver money so they can leave the restaurant and eat somewhere cheaper. We even consider it a treat for them to be given money to buy lunch of their choice. 

Wow, nag-Jollibee ka ha! Sosyal! (Wow, you ate in Jollibee? Classy!)” We even tease them afterwards. 

Our helpers themselves will refuse to sit with the family or eat what they are eating because they know their place. Their social status has been ingrained in them so well that they are terrified of appearing to want more, or even attempting to put themselves in the same level as their masters.

Sometimes we use that as an excuse not to invite them to the table at all. “Mahihiya lang iyon (She’ll just be embarrassed),” we’ll say. So we don’t even offer our food to our staff the way we tell everyone else, “Kain tayo (Let’s eat)!”

Inevitable inequality

Like it or not, there is a clear (if unspoken) line between master and help. It doesn’t have to be stated that what is good, clean, and delicious is for the master, and what is average and edible is for the maid. There is an understanding that the best things go to the boss, and the help must settle for leftovers or what the boss decides is good enough for them. They pay for it, after all.

A helper is paid for their day’s labor and everything else is extra. How many times have we said, “Suwerte  pa nga yung maid, kasi…” followed by something we feel only a master or employer deserves?

Buti pa si yaya, naka-aircon. (Lucky nanny, she’s in an air-conditioned room.)

Sarap ni manong ha, naka-chedeng! (Fancy driver! He drives a Benz!) 

Ang mahal naman. Puwede na yung mura kina Inday! (This item is so expensive. The cheaper one is fine for the maids.)

We are repeatedly warned not to spoil our maids, and not to get them used to the comforts only we deserve. It’s as if allowing our helpers the same luxuries will make them forget their place and they will start to assume that we are equal, when we are most definitely not.

Yumayabang ka na,” (You’re becoming arrogant) we’ll say to end any assertive behavior. “Sino ba ang amo sa ating dalawa?” (Who is the master between us?) is not such a rare line we use to remind them of their place.

Poor form

I’m not saying that establishments are faultless in calling a budget meal a “yaya meal.” Doing so emphasizes the helper’s low stature and lack of options as an employee of the family. Like requiring staff to use service elevators and kitchen entrances in fancy condo buildings, these distinctions say, “Your labor is welcome, but your visibility (or opinion) is not.” 

More than anything, designating a dish on the menu as “just for the help” is a reflection of the resort’s ignorance and lack of class in assuming (and expressly stating) that their own guests cannot afford or do not want to feed their own help the same meals they enjoy – a fact that may be true, but is something I’m sure their guests would not appreciate being pointed out. (It’s like going to Per Se in New York and finding “nanny meal” on the menu. That would just be laughable, and if their CEO even rationalized it, it would be bizarre.)

But before we sing about equality and how our helpers should be treated the same way we treat ourselves, ask yourself when your helpers truly shared your status, in that they deserved the same good food in a fancy resort the way you do, and in the same portions and at same cost shouldered by you? If they really were members of your family, you wouldn’t wince at the thought. 

‘Puwede na yan’

Or do we just catch ourselves saying, “Puwede na yan sa kanila (That is fine for them),” when we buy the cheapest item on the menu (with or without it being called “yaya meal”)? At home, it’s almost second nature to buy fish and vegetables for the helpers while we buy meat just for the family’s consumption. It’s a given that when buying steak to make for dinner, we don’t count the number of helpers because certain items are “just for us,” like chocolate bars and imported items, like candies in a bowl the help are not allowed to touch.

Our help’s status and unequal footing doesn’t just happen on vacation. It isn’t just evident in the mall or in places where we have to make a choice as to what they will eat, or wear, or enjoy. For our maids, yayas, and drivers, their lack of stature is 24/7 and they are reminded of it each minute they are employed by us.

They don’t need a “yaya meal” on the menu to remind them of how it’s up to us to decide what we feel they deserve to put into their mouths, what they can wear, or where they can sleep. We remind them of their place daily, whether we speak of it or not. – Rappler.com

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