I was still very young when the MassKara Festival was created. One big thing I remember is the slogan — “Kari sa Bacolod, dala maskara.” Well, I also remember the masks, the street dancers, and how Papa would take us to the carnival. But I was too young to understand that the festival was born from tragedy — that it was Bacolod’s way of smiling again after loss and hardship.
As a kid, I only saw the fun. As I grew older, I became a little like Ebenezer Scrooge at Christmas — grumbling about traffic, noise, and waste of money.
Blogging changed things. What started as something my wife introduced me to became a window into my own city. Covering the festival made me see it differently, too — and over the years, I stopped just watching. I became part of it.
This year, though, felt different. The experience hit me harder. The smiles, the theme, the rain — everything carried more weight.
A Deeper Appreciation
This year made me more reflective. Maybe because I saw more of the festival’s inner workings. Maybe because it reminded me that behind every smiling face is hard work, hope, and community spirit.
Even during the launch, when I brought home blank masks for my kids to paint, I found myself saying, “Make them Bacolod MassKara masks.” I didn’t want random designs — I wanted them to express what they felt about our city, our colors, our culture.
That small moment made me realize what MassKara does to us — it draws us in. We don’t just watch it. We become part of it.
When the Theme Became Real
The theme “One Smile, One City, One Heart” didn’t sound like a slogan anymore. It felt prophetic. The organizers likely came up with it months before the storms, earthquakes, flooding, and even fires that later struck the city.
At the opening of the festival, Mayor Greg Gasataya asked everyone to pause in a moment of silence — honoring those affected by recent calamities and sharing a message of support for Bogo and other communities. That simple act reminded me that Bacolod’s celebration wasn’t about ignoring the hardships elsewhere. It was about showing solidarity, hope, and encouragement — dancing and smiling not in insensitivity, but in resilience.
This year, Bacolod still danced. Still smiled. Still came together. And maybe that’s what touched me most — the smiles weren’t just part of a costume. They were a conscious choice to celebrate life, to lift each other’s spirits, and to keep believing in better days.
A Scene that Captured It All
One image that stayed with me was because of the return of the school category this year. It was one of the most emotional highlights of the festival.
The children danced under heavy rain — gray skies above, puddles at their feet — but not one of them stopped. Instead, they danced harder. Their movements were strong, their smiles unwavering. Seeing them in the livestream, I was reminded of why the MassKara Festival was created — to rise above crisis with courage, hope, and joy.
Those students embodied that very spirit. They trained for months, gave their all, and faced a storm that threatened to cancel everything they had prepared for. Yet, they pushed through — transforming what could have been a disappointment into a moment of triumph.
When the winners were announced, the joy on their faces was priceless. It wasn’t just about winning. It was about proving that the MassKara spirit — that unyielding joy amid adversity — still burns bright in the next generation.
Seeing Beyond the Spectacle
Every performance, every float, every mask — I saw them in a new light. They weren’t just for tourists or social media. Each had purpose. The dancers carried their barangay’s pride. The organizers and volunteers worked tirelessly behind the scenes. The artists, choreographers, and costume makers poured their hearts into something bigger than themselves.
When you see it all up close, you realize how much love and teamwork breathe life into Bacolod’s biggest celebration.
One Festival, Many Faces
Over the years, my perspective of the MassKara Festival changed as I covered it, I also found myself becoming part of it. Each year revealed something new — and this year, it struck me with a deeper intensity.
Perhaps it’s because this year’s festival felt more inclusive than ever. There seemed to be something for everyone — from the dance competitions and concerts to the Miss Bacolod Masskara pageant, the food fests, and the community events that gave every sector a place to shine.
There were events for seniors, PWDs, cyclists, pet lovers, and many more. Each sector was given a stage — a moment to shine and celebrate in their own way. That’s what makes a city. Not just the crowd in the arena, but the small communities that make Bacolod dynamic and alive. The city, after all, is not just its government or business district. It is made up of people from all walks of life.
Not everyone may have been represented, but more than ever, it felt like MassKara embraced the whole city.
Reflecting on Faith and Harmony
MassKara has always been secular, unlike other Philippine festivals with religious roots. I used to wonder — should faith have a place here? Could it? After all, Bacolod is home to many beliefs.
“Bacolod for Jesus” has been part of the MassKara Festival for several years. I don’t attend this gathering, but having attended similar events, I assume it is a gathering of Christians, perhaps singing worship songs and spending time praying for the city. I’m glad it was included again this year. But I haven’t seen many posts about it this year, so I hope it continues.
I am wondering if, perhaps in the future, Bacolod could host a more ecumenical gathering that brings together people of different faiths, like other cities do.
One Smile, One City, One Heart — it’s about harmony. Living peacefully together. Caring for one another, whatever our faith may be.
Weathering the Rain
The rains this year were relentless. But many of the events pushed through under umbrellas and puddles as they are outdoors. Many started suggesting moving the festival to a drier month — maybe summer. But that might be too hot, and April already has the Panaad sa Negros Festival. January is cooler but packed with other celebrations.
Maybe November could be ideal — when the rains have eased and the Amihan breeze has set in.
Still, the thought lingers: can MassKara truly be celebrated with the rain? Maybe instead of avoiding it, we could embrace it. Imagine performances that take the rain into account — choreography that dances with the downpour, not against it. Or perhaps even a Lacson Tourism Strip where festivalgoers come in MassKara-themed raincoats and umbrellas.
Because maybe the rain isn’t something to fear. Maybe it’s part of the story — a reminder that Bacolod was built to smile through the storms.
More Than a Festival
MassKara Festival isn’t just a street party. It’s the story of Bacolod — resilient, creative, and joyful even in adversity. Seeing it up close this year reminded me that the smiles we see every October aren’t just for show. They come from a city that knows how to turn struggle into celebration and pain into purpose.
This year, I didn’t just cover the MassKara Festival.
I felt it.
And that made all the difference.
Ahay kanami na reflection. Ka heartwarming gid man sang this year’s MassKara Festival. It did hit me differently this year, especially that we were able to attend the closing at the Plaza.