This text is proposed as part of the Embodied Ecologies project led by Wageningen University, which consists of a major collaborative investigation into how people perceive and feel exposure to toxic products, how human bodies interact with a multiplicity of these products on a daily basis, and how they try to minimise their effects.
Reynaldo, the 49-year old owner of a pagawaan (shoemaking workshop), is also the patriarch of the house which is located above their workshop. During our interviews, he described the second floor of the building as “pinaka-bahay”, directly translating to “main house”, insinuating that the pagawaan downstairs is also their home. But when I asked about the health implications of shoemaking in both levels of the structure, Reynaldo told me that upstairs is “good” because the pagawaan below has “rugby” (a term for industrial glue), implying that it is not good for his health.
John Ruskin (1891, as cited in Kaika, 2004) defines the “true nature of home” to be separated from “anomie”, such as the glue used by shoemakers. So why does Reynaldo consider the pagawaan a part of their home when he knows it’s bad for his family’s health? This challenged my preconceived notions of home and work spaces, and blurred what I believed to be supposed boundaries of home and work.
and mananahi (seamstress) at work in Reynaldo’s pagawaan.
In my ethnographic research, I looked into how Reynaldo and other shoemakers in the community navigate domestic and work spaces in response to everyday toxicities, particularly focusing on industrial glue. This research is part of Embodied Ecologies, an international, multi-sited research project, where we focused on creating ethnographies that highlight sensorial experiences and embodied knowledges of chemical exposure. We also produced creative cartographies that represent said exposures, along with identifying and supporting existing modes of action in the community (Mandler et al., 2025). Highlighting the different sensorial cartographic methods I used together with participant observation and interviews, this article details how mapping helped unfold my research participants’ conception of home and work, while also revealing how exposure to glue becomes an everyday phenomenon.
Sensing the Place
We began with sensing our field sites, using our bodies to identify areas of interest. According to Mandler et al. (2025), communities facing pollution may perceive toxicity in “intuitive and sensorial ways.” Banking on Grandia (2021, as cited in Mandler et al., 2025), they argue that these bodies may give us an insight into the different kinds of toxicities present in our planet today. Closely paying attention to our senses, we went on walks in different areas in Marikina City. We took note of the different kinds of pollution that we came across with.
In our walks, we were sometimes guided by a local women’s organization. They showed us places of interest and introduced us to possible interlocutors. I particularly wanted to look into small-scale shoemaking because of a previous encounter with a family that glued soles of shoes outside their house, and just close enough for us to smell the adhesive they use.
When we went inside small-scale, oftentimes home-based pagawaans, I would always smell glue yet I would observe that the intensity of the smell varies, depending on the location, ventilation, and the activities inside the pagawaan. I also observed that workers used different kinds of chemicals, most of which is industrial glue repacked in small used jar containers.
I sensed that there may be health concerns in these kinds of workplaces–this sense, however, was also informed by narratives of solvent abuse and my own experience with its smell whenever I would step inside a pagawaan during the course of my fieldwork. So I probed about how differently the workers perceived their work and home spaces, trying to elicit insights through critical and creative cartography. However, to my surprise, none also expressed alarming concerns about their workspace. They would often say “okay lang (it’s okay)” or “sanay na (used to it)”.
Shoemaking in Dolores St.
Parts of Reynaldo’s pagawaan are scattered along Dolores Street (not its real name). In this alley in the “shoe capital of the Philippines”, Reynaldo’s pagawaan stands within a residential area, sandwiched between buildings with little to no space in-between the neighboring structures. The main pagawaan and his residence are housed in a two-story concrete building near the main road. He also owns a three-story building in the same alley, a short distance from the main workshop. In this new building, he provides housing and workspace for one of his shoemakers’ families; this building also has a rental unit for another family in the alley. In addition to those, Reynaldo rents a one-room building from his brother on a nearby street for two of his shoemakers to work in.
Reynaldo offers informal employment to his neighbors and as well as to workers from neighboring streets. A typical workday at the pagawaan begins at 9:00 AM and usually ends by 6:00 PM for the workers. Since the workshop is located close to their homes, they often come to work in their pambahay or everyday clothes they wear at home. While some workers eat with their families at home during breaks, some also choose to eat at the pagawaan to maximize their productivity, especially when they have rush orders. After their shift, some mag-aareglos continue their work from home.
For mothers, working at the pagawaan provides the convenience of earning income while staying close to home. 47-year old Nanet, Reynaldo’s neighbor, highlighted this flexibility when asked about her experience working for the pagawaan just beside her house. She explained:
Maayos naman kasi kahit papaano, hawak ko ‘yung oras ko, kapag medyo pagod ako, nakakapagpahinga ako kasi malapit lang. Di na ako babiyahe o kung saan man. Malapit lang diyan lang sa labas namin. ‘Pag tanghali, papasok talaga ako sa loob at magpapahinga kasi mainit at ang aga ko gumising para [maghanda] para sa aking mga papasok [na anak at asawa]. Kaya maayos naman sa pakiramdam kasi hawak ko ang oras ko. »
« Working in the pagawaan is fine howsoever, because it’s flexible. I don’t need to commute elsewhere. It’s just there, outside our house. At noon when it’s hot, I’ll just go inside to rest and because I woke up very early to help prepare my children and husband to go to school and work. »
Workers are paid per piece and are able to adjust their working hours based on their availability. Mag-aareglos working for Reynaldo typically earn 18-20 PHP per pair of shoes, resulting in weekly earnings of approximately 1,800-2,000 PHP. Sapateros (male shoemakers), on the other hand, earn significantly more, with weekly payouts ranging from 2,500 to 3,500 PHP, depending on their output. The piece-rate system offers flexibility, and according to Reynaldo, they can treat their work as a “libangan” (a leisure activity), working when they can, rather than strictly adhering to a set schedule. Because they are paid per piece, they are also able to earn more when they dedicate more hours to working.
For Reynaldo, Nanet, and the other shoemakers in the alley, shoemaking is deeply ingrained in their everyday life. “Kumbaga lifestyle na ‘to eh (Shoemaking is a lifestyle, so to speak),” Reynaldo said in our interview. He further details, “Mas malala pa nga nung dati dahil paghakbang mo sa kabila, gawaan ulet. Paghakbang mo, gawaan ulet. Lifestyle na ‘to kaya lahat nga ng kabataan dito, ‘yan ang natutunang trabaho (Actually, it was more serious before because when you step on the other side, there’s a pagawaan–another step, there’s a pagawaan again. This is a lifestyle. That’s why those who grew up here learned shoemaking).”
Mapping Blurred Spaces
The extent to which shoemaking is integrated in the community was reflected in the sensorial maps that we co-created. When I tried to elicit their perceptions of home and work, hoping to find a separation, I was initially dumbfounded. But looking closely, this is not far from reality. This blurring of spaces can also be observed inside and even outside the pagawaan.
While there are spaces dedicated for shoemaking, Nanet prefers to work outside. She sits just outside the entrance to their two-storey home, no more than 20 square meters big that also shares the walls of her workplace. Since Nanet also shares their house with her extended family, they need to be flexible and conscientious about where they do other activities at home, stretching out to the alley that they share with other neighbors. Sometimes, when Nanet is working outside, her 15-year old son also does his homework on a bench next to her. They would also have lunch in her workspace. The only time she chooses to work inside their house is when it rains.
When I asked Nanet to indicate what she senses or feels (pakiramdam) in their home and her workspace outside, she had positive feelings for both (1) their kitchen downstairs where her mother also sleeps, and (2) their room upstairs that she shares with her husband and three children–two in high school and one in elementary school. She explained that these are the spaces where she can bond with her family. However, she also indicated that these spaces, especially their room, can be cramped; this was the only negative feeling she indicated in her sensorial maps. She expressed neutral feelings, such as “okay lang” and “sanay na” towards her workspace outside, but prefers to work there because it’s “mahangin” (windy).
On the other hand, Reynaldo’s sensorial maps indicated feelings of happiness in both work and home spaces despite the acknowledgement of the presence of harmful chemicals. When mapping his home upstairs and the pagawaan, he placed a smiley face on both floors; however, his primary residence upstairs, their “main” home, had a bigger smile because according to him, he is more comfortable there than in the pagawaan, as it is his place of rest.
By examining Nanet and Reynaldo’s sensorial maps and exploring how they feel about spaces of home and work, I realized how spaces of home and work intersected and overlapped, blurring spaces and boundaries of what I assumed to be distinct spaces. Indeed, shoemaking is part of their lifestyle, and exposure to industrial chemicals such as glue, is an everyday phenomenon.
Mapping Bodies
Studies show that these industrial adhesives contain unsafe substances, such as benzene and toluene, that have been linked to health problems. In the Philippines, toluene has also been classified as a dangerous drug. (Azari et al., 2012; De la Torre et al., 2009; Markkanen et al.. 2009). Because of this, I also asked questions about the effects of adhesives on the shoemakers’ well-being, knowing that they are exposed to these chemicals on a daily basis. But none of them claimed to have experienced any adverse reactions from working in the pagawaan. Inspired by occupational health mapping, a method developed by Shadaan (2023) where body maps are created to show occupational hazards, I tried to instead elicit bodily experiences of the glue.
Both Nanet and 51-year old Tina, the sukatera (pattern tracer) in Reynaldo’s pagawaan, indicated pains and discomfort related to working long hours in the workshop, in addition to tending to their families. Their accounts provide a glimpse into the possible harm of adhesives. “Pag nagkakasabay-sabay [ang pagpahid], amoy na amoy na (Whenever gluing happens simultaneously, the smell really becomes intense),” Tina explained. However, she downplays this, as the effects of her health are already deteriorating because of age. She would also just pause from working and go outside until the mag-aareglos are finished with applying glue.
The body maps showed other concerns relevant to the workers, inciting other issues that affect their well-being, such as long working hours. This method also allowed them to talk more openly about their experiences and other health problems. For example, when asked about the health effects of working in the pagawaan, I learned that Tuberculosis (TB) is among the primary concerns of workers. Probing questions during the mapping sessions also revealed that workers are knowledgeable about the possible harms of adhesives, stemming from popular notions of contact cement associated with solvent abuse.
While there is acknowledgement that industrial chemicals used in the pagawaan can be harmful, this was not highlighted in the body maps and none of the participants showed concerns about their exposure to it. And even though workers do have other more pressing health concerns, they don’t exactly correlate these to the effects of being exposed to chemicals, e.g. TB. They would explain that they are already sanay to the glue and don’t abuse it, unlike some children.
Final thoughts
Listening to stories of living and working in Dolores Street, I would often hear that shoemakers are already sanay to shoemaking and whatever comes with it. This would come up during mapping sessions when I probed more about what they put in the maps. I then began to look at glue as an everyday phenomenon and started to examine the ambiguity of home and work spaces in Dolores Street.
Looking into the adhesives as part of the community’s everyday, sanayan (being used to) emerges as an adaptive response to working with toxic chemicals in the workshop. It shows the familiarity of the shoemakers with the chemicals they use. While some scholars believe that the home should be separated from danger, this is not the case for this group of shoemakers that have been living with glue since they were children and whose homes have been intertwined with these chemicals.
Employing participatory and sensorial mapping as an ethnographic method, my research participants and I were able to produce narratives that were initially invisible to me, the researcher. As an outsider looking in, having my interlocutors participate in the map-making process allowed me to see their “vision of the world”, also exposing geo-political, social, and even economic realities (Rekacewicz, 2021).
In the small, home-based shoemaking workshops where exposure to industrial chemicals occur many hours in a day, we don’t exactly know what’s in the air and how it can affect the people breathing it. Sensing and making visible these senses gave an insight into how shoemakers live with glue, and other issues relevant to them, bringing “ground-truthed data” (Palis, 2022) and “marginalized knowledge and epistemologies to the fore” (Mandler et al., 2025).
↬ P.A. Echague
References
- Azari, Mansour R., Vajihe Hosseini, Mohammad Javad Jafari, Hamid Soori, Parisa Asadi, and Seid Mohammad Ali Mousavion. 2012. Evaluation of Occupational Exposure of Shoe Makers to Benzene and Toluene Compounds in Shoe Manufacturing Workshops in East Tehran. Tanaffos 11, no. 4: 43–49.
- De la Torre, A. J., Niña G. Sumacot-Abenoja, and Wenna Berondo. May 2009. ‘Rugby’: Cheap High for City’s Street Kids (Last of Two Parts). The Philippine Star.
- Kaika, Maria. 2004. City of Flows: Modernity, Nature, and the City. London, England: Routledge.
- Kaika, Maria. 2004. Interrogating the Geographies of the Familiar: Domesticating Nature and Constructing the Autonomy of the Modern Home. International Journal of Urban and Regional Research 28, no. 2: 265–86.
- Mandler, Tait, Mariana Rios Sandoval, Michael Lim Tan, and Anita Hardon. Embodied Ecologies: How We Sense, Know and Act to Reduce Cumulative Chemical Exposures in Our Everyday Lives. Medicine Anthropology Theory (forthcoming).
- Markkanen, Pia, Charles Levenstein, Robert Forrant, and John Wooding. 2017. Shoes, Glues and Homework: Dangerous Work in the Global Footwear Industry. London, England: Routledge..
- Palis, Joseph. 2022. Geonarratives and Countermapped Storytelling. In The Routledge Handbook of Global Development, 700–712. London: Routledge.
- Rekacewicz, Philippe. Radical Cartography In Shifts in Mapping: Maps as a Tool of Knowledge edited by Christine Schranz, 209-232. Bielefeld: transcript Verlag, 2021.
- Shadaan, Reena. 2023. Healthier Nail Salons: From Feminized to Collective Responsibilities of Care. Environmental Justice 16, no. 1: 62–71.