One scroll on TikTok and a stroll around the nearest mall, and gg, bet you gonna see them. Drip on a thousand, slang mad different, these young stunnas flow swagger through streets like they own the city. With fits that could stop traffic on Taft Ave. and lingo that has infiltrated the group chats of those who swore on their mothers they would never use the word sah, the geng gengs have entered the chat. Even the writers of this article are not immune, catching themselves using kosa and efas in places they probably should not.
Recently, the BGC lespu were reported turning away young stunnas, calling them a “public disruption.” Defenders called it a matter of orderliness, while critics fired accusations of profiling. And through all the ebas, the young stunnas themselves were largely missing from the conversation, spoken about, argued over, and turned into memes, but rarely heard. Against this suppression, The LuhSallian sits down with the young stunnas of DLSU, not to translate them or explain them away, but to actually listen. Ano tara? Aight.
Getting in the flow with young stunnas
It is easy to find oneself confused in a world shaped by trending phrases and crazes. Some revolve around new food, fashion, or shaped by a popular show—the possibilities are endless. But the recent emergence of young stunnas resist these simple categorizations.
Picture a person clad in an oversized shirt, baggy jeans, a cap sported backwards, and adorned with gold or silver chains and sunglasses. This is the bold streetwear style that drapes the typical young stunna, turning heads as they traverse the metro with overflowing confidence.
To be a young stunna is not just about the drip—it is a way of life and a part of their identity, exactly how Jhunemar Naruto Dimagiba and Precious Ligaya Batumbakal describe. “Iilan lang nakakadama ng bangis namin. Kaming mga para sa streets, sumasabay lang sa flow pero kakaiba ‘pag hustlin’ na, goal lang umarep hanggang pumaldo’t makaalis sa zero days,” Dimagiba asserts, dismantling the usual freeloader stereotype of young stunnas.
(Only a few people can understand us who belong to the streets. We just go with the flow but when it comes to hustling, our goal is to make money and hit the jackpot to get ahead in life.)
The young stunnas can be considered an offshoot of the modern jejemon, sometimes referred to as geng geng. Often shunned and ridiculed because of their means of expression, Filipinos who resonate with the subculture are not merely invested in it as an aesthetic, but also as a way of connecting with those of the same roots. “Iwas tayo sa mga tindigang peke, sah. Pass agad ‘pag ‘di kayang sabayan aking enerhiya. Dito na lang ako sa mga day ones na never ako ni-let down, matira ang tunay papuntang tuktok,” Batumbakal affirms, finding community in circles that share the same values.
(I try to avoid fake people. It’s an immediate pass if they can’t match my energy. I will just stick to my friends who never let me down to get through the hard times and achieve success.)
For the two, asserting their presence is essential against constant scrutiny. But beneath their swag lies the hope to be accepted and exist without being demeaned.
Tatagos ba? Young stunnas against the world
Coexisting in virtual and physical settings have been particularly hard for the young stunnas and other Filipinos. This is especially true for Dimagiba, narrating how his stint as a TikTok affiliate has been met with vitriol. His comment sections are filled with netizens poking fun at his signature wide-legged pants and oversized headwear, completely decentering the focus from his shopping cart to his demeanor. “‘Deins na nga ako pumapaldo, ginawang katatawanan ba naman getup ko. Dang lala eh.”
(I can’t even earn money now. They just make fun of my getup, it’s so absurd.)
Similarly, Batumbakal shares the same sentiments, echoing the subtle and overt tirades she has to endure on an almost daily basis. “Scholar ako ng La Salle, actually. Windang sila eh, ebucakes na kwatro lang sinasamba? That’s me. Puro banat mga kagrupo ko ‘pag nakakasama nila ako, ‘di nila alam may bitaw ‘to,” she recalls, emphasizing how judgment that refuses to see beyond her physical appearance dissolves what she truly is.
(I’m actually a scholar in La Salle. They get shocked, a girl like me only patronizing good grades? That’s unheard of. My group mates often take a jab at me, but they don’t know that I’m really capable.)
With young stunnas often being labeled as “maasim” and “squammy” entirely unprovoked, one is faced with the classism that protrudes in the guise of seemingly justified callouts. Anything out of the ordinary, especially when worn by the working class, is regarded as unpleasant or gaudy. This is not applicable to the rich, however, who are often credited for revolutionizing fashion—which are often just gentrified versions of what ordinary Filipinos have already done.
Above everything, these young stunnas only wish for an avenue to remain true to their authentic selves, without having to deal with remarks that reverberate classist ideals.
As long as makaget
Ultimately, there is nothing new about this issue. The jologs of the 90s, the jejemons of the 2000s, the hypebeasts of the 2010s—they all lived through the same thing. Each of their cultures were mocked and derided until everyone moved on and found the next laughing stock. The geng gengs are just the latest target. “Mga simpleng eka at ea lang kami man,whyket kami ang lagi nadadale?” Dimagiba questions.
(We are just simple boys and girls, why do we always get the blame?)
What gets called a standard of being ‘normal’ has always had a hint of discrimination dressed as aesthetic preference. “Just keepin’ it real gng, deins kami matitinag sa ebas niyo sah,” Batumbakal asserts. And honestly, is that too much to ask? If our malls, parks, and universities are truly for everyone, then these young stunnas should not have to prove anything but their ‘swag’. As Dimagiba puts it, “Aray moh kung ‘di tumagos sayo, g.”
(Just keeping it real, we’re not shaken by what you have to say. It’s on you if you don’t get it.)
EDITOR’S NOTE: This work is part of The LaSallian’s annual spoof articles, which use satire to examine current events, issues, and culture. While it embraces humor, most articles still aim to inform and foster critical thinking.
Read all articles at spoof.thelasallian.com.