BINI Faces Backlash After Turning Down Pinoy Street Food in Viral Video

They were once the nation’s sweethearts—hailed as the rising pride of P-pop. But in just under 30 seconds, the BINI girl group found themselves at the center of a social media storm, not for their music or fashion, but for a viral video that left many Filipinos hurt, disappointed, and deeply offended.

It all started during what was supposed to be a fun and casual street food challenge for content. The girls were seated around a table filled with some of the country’s most beloved street delicacies—isaw, betamax, kwek-kwek, balut, and even the simple but iconic fishballs. The camera rolled, the host introduced the food, and then came the reactions.

Cringes. Gags. Covers over mouths. “Eww” whispered. One even jokingly said, “I can’t. I might throw up.”

The clip, uploaded on a major entertainment platform, was intended to be lighthearted. But it didn’t take long for netizens to react—and they did, fiercely.

“Do they think they’re too good for our food?” one comment read.

“You’re Filipino idols! How can you be disgusted by what makes us Filipino?” another wrote, echoing the sentiment of thousands.

In just hours, the hashtags #RespectPinoyStreetFood and #BINIApologize began trending across X (formerly Twitter), TikTok, and Facebook. Comments flooded their recent posts. Fans who once adored their quirky charm now questioned their sincerity and cultural connection.

What hurt most wasn’t that they didn’t like the food—it was how they reacted. The way they laughed, recoiled, and looked away. For many, it didn’t come off as personal taste—it came off as mockery.

“Isaw isn’t just food. It’s memories. It’s after-school snacks, sidewalk conversations, and comfort after long days,” one netizen wrote. “When they mocked it, they mocked us.”

The group’s management was quick to issue a statement, calling the reactions “unscripted” and clarifying that “each member has individual preferences.” They emphasized there was no intention to insult Filipino cuisine and apologized for “any offense caused.”

But the apology didn’t land for everyone.

One fan reposted the apology with the caption: “Too little, too late. They weren’t just picky—they were rude.”

For a group like BINI, whose identity is built on Filipino pride and representation, this controversy struck deep. Their songs include lyrics that uplift Filipino identity. Their interviews have often centered around national pride. But critics now question: Was it all just branding?

Still, some fans came to their defense.

“They’re young,” one supporter wrote. “Give them a break. Not everyone likes isaw. Does that mean they’re disrespectful?”

Another added, “It was meant to be funny. Let’s not cancel them for being honest about their taste.”

But the divide was clear. And it wasn’t just online.

Vendors from actual street food stalls across Metro Manila began weighing in. A vendor from Quiapo said, “Maraming artista kumakain dito. Di sila maarte. Dati proud ako sa BINI, ngayon parang wala silang respeto sa pinaghirapan namin.”
(Many celebrities eat here. They’re not picky. I used to be proud of BINI. Now it feels like they disrespected our hard work.)

One TikTok video of a street vendor watching the viral clip while shaking his head has amassed over 2 million views. In it, he says, “We serve what we can afford. Our food might be humble, but it has dignity.”

What many see as the deeper issue is the disconnect between rising stars and the everyday people they represent.

“Street food is not just food,” a cultural studies professor wrote in an editorial. “It’s socio-economic identity. It’s culture. When you cringe at it, you cringe at the people who live it.”

BINI has since stayed quiet. Their pages remain active, but all comments on recent posts have been restricted. A scheduled live fan meet was postponed “due to scheduling issues,” but fans believe it was more than just timing.

And what now?

For many, the hope isn’t to cancel BINI—it’s for them to understand.

Understand that for the vendors in the heat, cooking isaw and betamax isn’t just livelihood—it’s legacy. Understand that a simple “eww” from someone on a platform can echo as insult in someone else’s kitchen. Understand that pride in culture is not just about wearing baro’t saya in a music video. It’s about how you carry your attitude when no script is written.

A viral food challenge turned into a national reflection.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s not a bad thing.

Because if the BINI girls take this moment to grow—to sit down with vendors, to learn the stories behind the food, to try again not in front of the camera but with sincerity—then perhaps, the heartbreak can turn into healing.

Perhaps their next song can be more than just a hit.

It can be a true anthem of humility.

And respect.