The soldier Bernardino Dimabasa had returned from war in Mindanao expecting to resume life with his wife, Maria Mutia. But Maria no longer wanted to live with him. 

Bernardino demanded cohabitation and grew violent when she refused. Eventually, Maria sought a legal separation — what today we would call a divorce.

A court in Iloilo heard witnesses testify that Bernardino had even tried to kill Maria. The court accepted their accounts and ruled in Maria’s favor. 

The divorce was formalized in a document signed by both parties in Baybayin, the islanders’ native script, while the rest of the proceedings were recorded in Spanish, overseen by a colonial magistrate affiliated with the Church.

The year was 1647.

This case, adjudicated just eight decades after Miguel López de Legazpi claimed the islands for Spain, shows that patriarchal Spanish norms had not yet fully taken root. At that time, many indigenous traditions, including more egalitarian gender roles, still prevailed.

In Iloilo, according to one historical study, “women inherited equally, had equal rights to their children after divorce, and could independently decide whether they wanted to stay married or not.” 

The Dimabasa-Mutia divorce is a lasting testament to this: Despite Bernardino’s military rank, the court sided with Maria. It’s a poignant reminder that nearly 400 years ago, women in the archipelago could assert agency in ways that would later be curtailed.

Of course, there’s the sobering reality that the same period also tolerated slave trading and ritual beheadings. But in terms of gender dynamics and local justice, 17th century Philippines reflects a society far more complex and at times progressive than colonial stereotypes allow.

Spanish missionaries soon began changing that. To them, indigenous divorce customs were “barbaric” and grossly un-Christian. Over time, the Church succeeded in imposing Catholic doctrine, eroding pre-Hispanic norms and institutionalizing male dominance in marital law.

I came across this little-known divorce case while working on a documentary about Bantayan Island’s historical gold trade. In the process, I stumbled upon a passing mention of divorce in historian William Henry Scott’s seminal book Barangay, where he notes that the earliest known native writing in the Visayas was the Baybayin signatures of the divorcing couple.

In Bantayan, I met local historian Trizer Mansueto, who pointed me to The Myth of the Barangay, a 2017 book by American historian Damon Woods, who grew up in Baguio. 

Woods had followed the same trail starting with Scott’s brief reference, and eventually tracked down the original divorce record in the Filipinas Heritage Library in Makati. His detailed analysis of the 1647 case offers an extraordinary window into Visayan society and its enduring customs, even under colonial rule.

The divorce proceedings were completed in less than six weeks and supported by testimony from nine witnesses, and left one with the impression that justice in those days, in at least this instance, was both swift and fair.