Eye Square Martial Arts

Cultural Preservation… with Bruises (sometimes).

Tag: FMA Origins

  • Bonus: Where It All Began – Regional Roots of Filipino Martial Arts

    Bonus: Where It All Began – Regional Roots of Filipino Martial Arts

    Filipino Martial Arts aren’t a single unified system—they’re a constellation of styles, strategies, and traditions, shaped by the geography, culture, and history of the islands they come from. Each region brought something to the table, and understanding those roots helps us appreciate just how diverse and adaptable FMA really is.

    Luzon – Arnis and Blade Discipline

    In the northern islands, especially in central and northern Luzon, the term Arnis de Mano became dominant. While there are stick systems, blade work has always been a big deal here—particularly with bolos, talibongs, and other agricultural tools-turned-weapons. Systems here often emphasize:

    • Flow drills (Anyo or Sayaw)
    • Blade-first mentality
    • Integration with cultural dances and traditions
    • Strong Spanish-era fencing influence

    Notable provinces: Pangasinan, Ilocos, Nueva Ecija, and parts of Central Luzon.

    Visayas – Eskrima and Impact Power

    The Visayas are the heartland of Eskrima (or Esgrima, derived from Spanish fencing). In Cebu, Negros, Iloilo, and nearby islands, you’ll find some of the most systematized and well-known FMA styles. Eskrima in this region is known for:

    • Close-range stick fighting
    • Fast, aggressive striking
    • Conceptual flow (defanging the snake, zoning)
    • Family-based systems passed down generation to generation

    Notable systems: Balintawak, Doce Pares, Cacoy Doce Pares, and others that trace their roots to Cebu.

    Mindanao – Kali and Tribal Warrior Influence

    While the term Kali is debated and varies by usage, it’s often associated with Mindanao and the southern Philippines. These regions have long histories of resistance and warrior traditions among the Moro people and indigenous tribes. Kali here carries:

    • Blade-centric training (kris, kampilan, barong)
    • Influence from Islamic and tribal warrior culture
    • Integrated weapons systems (sword, shield, spear)
    • Tactics suited for actual tribal warfare and skirmish combat

    Notable areas: Sulu, Cotabato, Lanao del Sur, Zamboanga, Maguindanao

    Tagalog and Bicol Regions – Hybrids and Hidden Arts

    In the southern Luzon regions (Tagalog belt and Bicol), FMA systems often flew under the radar. These arts were passed down through families, embedded in ritual and custom. They may not have always had formal names, but they were battle-tested and efficient.

    • Bolos and machete work
    • Stick and knife integration
    • Farm tool adaptability
    • Often blended with local dance or religious festivities for concealment

    Why Regional Origins Matter

    Knowing where an art comes from helps you understand why it looks the way it does. Terrain, local weapons, colonial contact, and even climate shaped how people fought. A system from the highlands of Luzon looks different than one from the flatlands of Cebu—or the jungle regions of Mindanao.

    The magic of FMA is that it all works together. Each system reflects its environment, but the principles—movement, timing, adaptability—are universal.

    So whether you call it Arnis, Eskrima, Kali, or something else entirely, know this: you’re tapping into centuries of innovation, rooted in the land, the people, and the fight to survive.

  • Part 2: Blades Before the Colonizers – Precolonial Martial Foundations

    Part 2: Blades Before the Colonizers – Precolonial Martial Foundations

    Before the Spanish showed up with muskets, crosses, and colonial paperwork, the islands that make up the Philippines were already well-acquainted with violence. And not just the random bar fight kind. We’re talking raiding parties, tribal warfare, and a strong warrior culture that existed long before anyone yelled “Viva España!”

    Tribal Warfare Was the Norm

    The Philippines wasn’t a unified nation—it was a scattered network of barangays, each with its own leaders, alliances, and beefs. And when diplomacy broke down (which it often did), warriors handled things the old-fashioned way: with blades, spears, and shields. These weren’t just skirmishes—they were life-or-death showdowns that shaped territory and power.

    The Warrior Classes

    Society had room for fighters. Depending on the region, you had names like bagani (Visayas), timawa, or maharlika (Luzon). These weren’t casual weekend warriors. They were trained, respected, and often tattooed as living resumes of the battles they’d survived. Their job? Protect the village, lead raids, and, occasionally, flex a little for the gods.

    Weapons of the Time

    Filipino ingenuity meant there was no shortage of bladed instruments: the kampilan (a long, tapered sword), the barong (a wide leaf-shaped blade), the bolo, spears, and the ever-versatile rattan stick. Shields like the kalasag were made from hardwood and rattan, designed to take a beating and keep you alive. The weapons were practical, brutal, and tailored for island warfare.

    Training Before There Were Belts

    There weren’t uniforms or dojos, but make no mistake—people trained. Knowledge was passed from parent to child, from warrior to apprentice. Techniques were embedded in rituals, dances, and community storytelling. A ceremonial dance might just have a blade hidden in the rhythm. You learned by doing, by mimicking, and by surviving.

    Spiritual Roots and Cultural Layers

    Fighting wasn’t just about killing. It was tied to spiritual beliefs. Warriors often invoked ancestral spirits before battle. Tattoos weren’t just flex—they were sacred. The body was both armor and canvas, with each design representing achievements, protection, or tribal affiliation.

    The Evidence We Have

    Most of what we know comes from Spanish chroniclers, early explorers, and modern anthropology. Some of it’s biased, some of it inferred, and a lot of it preserved through oral tradition. But the bottom line? The Filipino people were already warriors long before colonizers took notice.

    So when we talk about Arnis, Eskrima, or Kali, we’re not just talking about fighting systems. We’re talking about a deep, precolonial heritage of resistance, skill, and adaptation. We’re talking about a culture that refused to forget how to fight.

    Up next, we’ll look at what happens when you mix swords with sermons and sticks with Spanish steel. Spoiler: the Filipinos didn’t stop training. They just got sneakier about it.

  • The Sword in the Soul of the Islands: Why Filipino Martial History Matters

    The Sword in the Soul of the Islands: Why Filipino Martial History Matters

    When people think about martial arts, they usually imagine kung fu masters leaping off rooftops or UFC fighters trading elbows in a cage. But tucked away in the tropical mess of jungles, islands, and traffic jams we call the Philippines is something just as badass—if not more: Arnis, Eskrima, and Kali.

    These aren’t just some old-school ways to swing a stick around. They’re survival systems. They’re family legacies. They’re the “hold my bolo and watch this” moments passed down from generation to generation. More than that, they’re cultural time capsules—full of grit, improvisation, and a deep refusal to stay conquered.

    See, looking at Philippine history through the lens of its martial arts isn’t just about techniques or training drills. It’s about how people adapted to hundreds of years of colonizers trying to kill their culture—and still found a way to hit back. Sometimes literally.

    When the Spanish said “No weapons allowed,” Filipinos said, “Cool, we’ll just dance with them instead.” When the Americans brought boxing and baseball, the old arts went underground but never disappeared. These arts lived in fiestas, in rituals, in little moments where someone would casually flip a stick around and say, “Yeah, I used to train a bit.”

    This series is going to walk through Philippine history with an eye for the fighters—tribal warriors, resistance leaders, backyard masters, and everyone in between. We’ll talk about why people fought, how they fought, and what they passed down. This isn’t just for the historians. This is for anyone who’s ever taken a shot to the knuckles during a sinawali drill and smiled through the pain.

    So if you train in Filipino martial arts—or you’re just curious where this whole stick-twirling madness came from—strap in. This is the story of the Philippines, told through its fighters. It’s a little bit blood, a little bit blade, and a whole lot of spirit.

    Let’s get started.