In the early 20th century, Coney Island was a symbol of American leisure and innovation—an exciting playground filled with dazzling lights, roller coasters, and diverse amusements. But among the cotton candy stands and thrill rides, one attraction held a darker truth: a human zoo featuring the Filipino Igorot tribe.

After the U.S. colonized the Philippines in 1898, Americans grew curious about their new territories. This curiosity gave rise to so-called "ethnological expositions," public exhibits that displayed indigenous people as spectacles. In 1905 and 1906, Coney Island became home to such an exhibit: the Igorot Village.

At the heart of the attraction were members of the Igorot people, indigenous Filipinos from the mountainous regions of northern Luzon. Brought to the U.S. under questionable contracts and promises of education or adventure, they were made to live in mock villages and perform daily rituals and practices—often exaggerated for effect. One of the most sensationalized elements was the consumption of dog meat, which was used to shock and entertain American audiences.

The mastermind behind the Igorot exhibitions was Dr. Truman Hunt, a former U.S. military officer in the Philippines. Hunt profited from placing the Igorots on display at expositions across the country, including at Coney Island. Though he claimed his exhibits were educational, the underlying message was clear: they reinforced colonial narratives that painted non-Western cultures as primitive and inferior.

These “human zoos” were dehumanizing, stripping the Igorots of dignity and reducing them to curiosities. They were made to perform for gawking crowds, living under public scrutiny and often subjected to poor living conditions. The legacy of these exhibits is a painful reminder of how colonial power dynamics played out not only abroad—but right in the heart of America.

Yet, amidst this history of exploitation, there is also resilience. The Igorot people, then and now, have preserved their rich cultural identity, heritage, and pride. Today, many Filipinos and scholars are revisiting these dark chapters, not to reopen wounds, but to give voice to those who were silenced and to correct the record.

As we reflect on Coney Island's history—from thrill rides to uncomfortable truths—we are reminded that memories matter. Family bonding, cultural identity, and human dignity should be celebrated—not commodified.

Let us remember the Igorots not as subjects of spectacle, but as people of strength and culture, whose story deserves to be told with respect.