Sinaw

THERE’S a lesson to be learned here. Please indulge me.

In recent discussions about propriety, especially in political discourse and media, certain Bisayan words have repeatedly surfaced — often flagged as crude, offensive, or inappropriate.

Words like bilat, bisong, otin, boto, and iyot are at the center of this controversy. But here’s the thing: these aren’t inherently dirty words.

They’re not slurs.

They’re not insults.

They’re nouns — anatomical terms, part of our body, our biology. Well, except for iyot, which can function as both noun and verb, depending on usage.

The problem isn’t the words themselves. It’s how we use them.

More often than not, what truly carries a derogatory sting are not the so-called “vulgar” words, but the innocent ones — when they’re weaponized in context.

Take words like sinaw, sinaw'g tuhod, hubag, mamords, prut salad, or hipon.

These aren’t cuss words. These are everyday Bisaya expressions. But throw them around in the wrong context, with the wrong tone, and they become deeply loaded, sexist, or demeaning.

For example, say: “Sinaw kaayo akong ulo kay opaw ko.” That’s perfectly objective. There’s nothing wrong with it. But say: “Sinaw kaayo tong chick nga misayaw ganina,” and suddenly sinaw isn’t just describing something shiny — it’s implying something else entirely, usually laced with sexual innuendo or objectification.

Context is everything. Language is not just about vocabulary and syntax — it’s about intent.

This is where we often miss the mark in public discussions about language use, especially in politics and media.

We’re quick to call out individual words, to ban or bleep them, without taking a moment to analyze the environment in which they’re spoken or the purpose behind their usage.

In truth, language becomes harmful not because of the word itself, but because of how it’s framed — who it's directed at, and what underlying power dynamics are at play.

Let’s not be too quick to judge a word based on how it sounds.

Let’s look at what it’s trying to do.

Words that name our body parts aren’t the enemy. But using humor to reduce people — especially women — to those body parts? That’s where harm begins.

That’s where we need to take accountability.

The same goes for regional languages like Bisaya, which are often unfairly maligned as “bastos” or “crude” just because they are more direct, more vivid.

But that’s the richness of Bisaya — it’s expressive, nuanced, and beautifully alive.

What we need is not censorship of words, but a deeper literacy about meaning, implication, and yes, respect.

So the next time someone says a Bisaya word that makes you cringe, pause first.

Ask: is it the word that’s the problem — or the message it’s being used to carry?

Let’s be honest about language. Let’s teach respect not through silence, but through understanding.