For many Filipinos, sabong, or cockfighting, is more than gambling. It has long been woven into our culture and social life. Around the cockpit, men meet, exchange stories, discuss the day’s political issues, make friends, and simply spend time together. For generations, sabong has been part of the social landscape of many Filipino communities.
Cockfighting in the Philippines predates Spanish colonization. Spanish chroniclers who came to the islands reported seeing Filipinos keeping and fighting roosters. Over the centuries, sabong became closely associated with fiestas and other community celebrations, becoming part of the traditions surrounding many Filipino gatherings.
But not all cockfights took place in established cockpits.
There was—and still is—a small-time form of cockfighting known as tupada. Unlike the regulated cockfights held in cockpits, tupada is generally an informal and often illegal gathering, sometimes held in secluded places such as vacant lots, backyards, or makeshift rings. Participants tried to keep their activities out of the authorities’ view.
I remember seeing this kind of tupada while growing up in Pasong Tamo, Quezon City. It was held out in the open, in an empty rice field. Neighbours would bring their fighting roosters, and before long, the informal ring would become a gathering place for sabungeros.
The location had one particular advantage: because the field was wide and open, the participants could see people approaching from a distance. If someone spotted the police, everyone knew what to do. The gathering could disappear as quickly as it began, with people scattering in different directions to avoid arrest.
For many Filipino men, caring for fighting cocks was itself a daily ritual. In the early morning, it was not unusual to see owners exercising and grooming their birds. They would massage the roosters, train them, and carefully watch their condition in preparation for the next fight.
The birds were treated almost like athletes.
Their owners paid close attention to their food, exercise, and physical condition. A fighting cock represented not only money but also pride. Its owner could spend considerable time preparing it for the arena, hoping that the bird would prove itself when the moment came.
A traditional cockpit can feel overwhelming for someone unfamiliar with sabong. The atmosphere is noisy and animated. Roosters crow, spectators shout, bettors call out their wagers, and people communicate with hand signals and gestures. To an outsider, the entire scene can appear confusing. To experienced sabungeros, however, the activity has an established rhythm and language.
Yet behind the excitement is also a danger that is sometimes overlooked.
I remember an incident from my younger days when I was in the emergency department of one of the hospitals in Manila. I saw a man who had suffered a serious wound to his leg. He had been accidentally struck by a rooster’s tari, the sharp spur used in cockfighting. He had been refereeing a fight when the accident happened.
That memory stayed with me. Whatever one’s feelings about sabong, it is not without risk—not only to the birds but sometimes to the people surrounding them.
Today, however, Filipinos living outside the Philippines have another reason to think carefully about sabong.
What may be regarded as a familiar cultural tradition back home does not automatically have the same legal status in another country.
The Philippine Embassy in France, for example, recently warned Filipinos after French authorities reported cockfighting and illegal gambling involving members of the Filipino community. The embassy reminded Filipinos that illegal cockfighting is considered animal cruelty under French law and can carry serious penalties.
The same lesson applies to Filipinos living here in Canada.
Cockfighting is not simply a matter of bringing a Filipino tradition with us to another country. Canadian law prohibits animal fighting. Under the Criminal Code, provisions dealing with animal cruelty and animal fighting make it an offence to participate in, promote, arrange, or maintain a place for animal fighting. Bill C-84 substantially strengthened the legislation, which took effect in 2019.
Our kababayans need to understand this. A cultural tradition does not exempt us from the laws of the country we now live in.
And this is not merely a theoretical concern.
In February 2009, CBC reported on a major police operation involving an alleged cockfighting ring north of Toronto. York Regional Police and the Ontario SPCA went to a property in East Gwillimbury following a report of animal cruelty. Police reported finding numerous live and dead roosters at the site and arrested or charged dozens of people.
The incident was a stark reminder that authorities in Canada take illegal cockfighting seriously.
For Filipinos who grew up with sabong, it can be difficult to separate the activity from memories of home. We may remember neighbourhood gatherings, the sound of roosters in the early morning, men discussing their birds, or the excitement of a fiesta. For some, sabong is connected to childhood memories and to the communities where they grew up.
I understand that connection because I grew up seeing it myself.
But living in Canada also means understanding that our traditions must coexist with Canadian law. We can remember where we came from without assuming that everything permitted—or tolerated—in the Philippines is permitted here.
Many beautiful Filipino traditions we can bring with us wherever we go include close family ties, hospitality, fiestas, food, music, storytelling, and our habit of gathering together and looking after one another.
Sabong may be part of the history and social fabric of Filipino communities, but here in Canada, staging or participating in animal fighting can have serious legal consequences.
For our kababayans, the message is simple: cherish the memories of home, respect our heritage, but also respect the laws of the country we now call home.
Sometimes, being a good immigrant means knowing not only what traditions we bring with us—but also what traditions we must leave behind.
