Collecting joy: ‘Anik-anik’ then and now
I have a sense of déjà vu every time I hear younger people saying anik-anik. I’d like to think our generation coined this phrase to refer to “hodgepodge,” but according to my millennial and Gen Z friends—including my daughter, our resident “basurera” or garbage collector—it seems to have mutated into something quite different, more organized and meaningful, at least to those who have them.
In essence, anik-anik, rooted in the Tagalog expression “kung anu-ano” (“anything and everything”), involves possession and ownership. In law school, we were taught to distinguish between these two terms: possession is the holding of a thing while ownership is the enjoyment of a right. Imagine your lecherous professor saying this with hand gestures while staring at his pretty students. It’s enough to make them drop out and forsake lawyering, and lawyers.
Many Filipino homes keep items that are not only attractive but also practical, reflecting that aspect of our culture where nothing goes to waste. Even now, we save plastic shopping bags to reuse for trash, shoe cartons to store small items, bottles to cool our water, or food containers to store, well, more food.
Some of us were raised in households of anik-anik, where our families keep fine chinaware in the cupboard, considered as heirloom to be passed on, preferably to a daughter when she marries. Some of our kitchen tools probably date back to Spanish times, like that faded batirol (wooden whisk dedicated to making hot chocolate), kudkuran ng niyog (coconut grinder one can straddle like a miniature horse), gilingan (portable grain mill), or those quality knives and machetes from Batangas. On dedicated tables and shelves sit religious symbols, such as crosses, rosaries, prayer books and Bibles, candles, statues of Mary and/or Christ, the Santo Niño in varying outfits and sizes, or bottled holy water from Fatima.
Some of the anik-anik border on the macabre, like the milk teeth of children (sorry to burst your bubble, kids—your folks are the real tooth fairies), hair from their first haircut, and, of course, the severed umbilical cords of siblings preserved in one container so that the kids will remain close forever.
For others, anik-anik represents hobbies like collecting stamps, snow globes, or books and graphic novels. Music lovers have cassette tapes, vinyl records, and CDs; videophiles have movie reels, VHS tapes, and DVDs; jocks have the shoes and jerseys of professional athletes; younger kids collect marbles of different sizes and materials, wooden tops with battle scars, “teks” or story postcards, even tradeable paper cigarette packs and soda bottle caps, like Bert’s in Sesame Street, and Matchbox cars (now Hot Wheels) with their own portable briefcase display garage. Toys like Sanrio merchandise, Tonka trucks and action figures of Voltes V and Mazinger Z were considered anik-anik despite being pricey.
The world of anik-anik embodies a sense of belonging and mutual understanding among collectors. It resonates deeply with Filipino culture, which unabashedly embraces a maximalist approach to life.
Millennials and Gen Zs have a slightly different concept of anik-anik. Emerging from an era of minimalism where Marie Kondo preaches keeping only items that “spark joy” and where Gen Xers are constantly blamed for global warming, they gravitate toward seemingly trivial items that have some form of sentimental value to them.
Anik-anik has evolved from a mere collection of pogs, Pokémon cards and Barbie dolls, or a descriptor of miscellaneous objects, to a symbol of personal history, emotional connection, and communal identity.
A room full of latter-day anik-anik would seem like a shrine of multiverse proportions, where every closet, shelf, drawer, box, or plastic container would most likely hold an assortment of costume jewelry, concert stubs, boarding passes, amusement park memorabilia, stickers, phone accessories, prints, photo booth pics, Happy Meal toys, gashapon (Japanese toy-vending machines), Funko Pops, plushies, blind boxes, fridge magnets, and river stones picked up from travels. Even th
e walls are not spared as posters of K-pop idols and other celebrities proudly cover the fading paint.
These collections, some of them decades old, are not preserved for utility but for the positive emotions and memories they evoke. Each piece is a time capsule, capturing small joys and moments of happiness. It’s all about revisiting one’s past and cherishing life’s little pleasures.
An anik-anik journey typically starts in childhood, with simple joys like colorful spoons, keychains, or figurines. However, societal pressures to grow up fast often lead to abandoning these hobbies in one’s teenage years. The rediscovery of the joy of collecting occurs later, when the child has grown up and can actually buy happiness through objects evoking their wonder years. They snap that boxed CD collection not to play the CDs (they might not even have a CD player, anyway) but to be a part of their idol’s story. They savor the jingling of keychains as they walk, for it’s a comforting reminder of a trip or a friend’s thoughtfulness.
Reconnecting with anik-anik allows younger people to define adulthood on their own terms, blending maturity with childlike innocence. Since young women are more inclined to engage in this activity, the term sometimes used is “anik-anik girlie.”
Unlike its older concept, today’s anik-anik is often tiny, portable, and ideally inexpensive or even free. Their meticulous organization (and constant reshuffling) reflects personal preferences and life experiences. Each item tells a story, weaving a unique narrative of the collector’s journey.
To be clear, the anik-anik community is diverse and inclusive, uniting people with shared interests in collecting small, adorable mementos. This group can thrive on social media platforms, where individuals showcase their collections, ranging from everyday items like coffee-shop receipts to specialized collectibles from Sonny Angels and Pop Mart (though some would argue that these are not anik-anik).
The world of anik-anik embodies a sense of belonging and mutual understanding among collectors. It resonates deeply with Filipino culture, which unabashedly embraces a maximalist approach to life. Don’t be shy to admit that you have as much a tendency to keep various items for both practical and sentimental reasons as your next-door neighbor. You’re simply being Pinoy.
But while collecting anik-anik is about joy and sentiment, it’s important to distinguish it from hoarding. This is nothing the American Pickers would salivate over. Hoarding is an excessive accumulation of items, a psychosocial disorder that may lead to self-destruction. In contrast, collecting anik-anik is a curated practice, focusing on items that arouse joy and memories. The excitement of discovering treasures in “blind” boxes or packages, much like in shows like Storage Wars, adds an element of surprise and delight to the collecting process.
Whether one perceives it through old or fresh eyes, anik-anik is here to stay, bringing materialistic bliss especially when it is needed the most. And to others, junk is junk by any name, at any age.