From cameoing in Dunkin Donuts’ 2024 Halloween Potion Macchiato to starring in Huda Beauty’s Ube Obsession Collection, ube has officially gone global. This vibrant purple yam (Dioscorea alata), native to the Philippines, has long been a staple in Filipino desserts like halo-halo and ensaymada. First documented in a 1613 Tagalog-Spanish dictionary, ube holds deep cultural roots for Filipinos. But thanks to social media promotions and growing interest from global food chains, ube is becoming internationally celebrated for its sweet, nutty flavor and eye-catching hue. However, beneath the viral stardom lies a more concerning dilemma: crop scarcity, climate change, and the marginalization of indigenous Filipino farmers.

Originally cultivated for local consumption, ube is now under intense pressure from rising global demand. This surge has led to widespread shortages across the Philippines, making headlines in local media. For example, in 2019, Philstar reported on Baguio City’s Good Shepherd store announcing it would substitute white yam for purple ube in response to “changing climate” conditions. Ube is typically planted between May and December, with summer months crucial to its growth. Though it can tolerate temperatures ranging from 15-35oC, researchers from GUHeat found that average temperatures between March and May have risen by 2oC from 1979 to 2019. As a result, farmers across Northern Luzon now struggle to grow ube in a warmer, less predictable environment, worsened by overharvesting and urban pollution.

These consequences are felt most deeply by indigenous Filipinos such as the Aeta, a tribal community living in the mountains of Luzon who have long depended on agriculture for both food and income, including ube. A 2016 study by researchers from Benguet State University documented 77 indigenous yam varieties across 13 ethnolinguistic farming groups in Northern Philippines, classified by traits like tuber shape and flesh color. The Aeta were found to cultivate six of these varieties and thereby sustain yam diversity. But they are not alone in their expertise: the Ivatans, indigenous to the Batanes Islands, identified the highest number (18) of yam varieties. These two communities alongside other indigenous farmers play a vital role in maintaining yam biodiversity and protecting domesticated wild varieties that act as “insurance crops” during scarcity periods.

As international demand grows and agribusinesses join the new “Ube Rush,” indigenous farmers face displacement or are coerced into growing crops with the goal of corporate gains, where they must use chemical inputs to boost the efficiency of their work. Without meaningful intervention by the Filipino government and other stakeholders, native ube varieties (that function as emergency crops for indigenous Filipinos) may be lost due to loss of nutrients in the soil, climate instability, and the reduction of agricultural biodiversity driven by global export demands.

This isn't just a Filipino issue: a study in the Benin Republic projected a 33% decline in yam yields by 2050 due to reduced rainfall and environmental degradation. These findings highlight a potential future for other yam-producing countries like the Philippines, where climate shifts could dramatically reshape agricultural landscapes and food security.

The next time you see an ube-flavored treat on a menu, remember the broader story behind that purple hue. Climate stress, overharvesting, and cultural erasure threaten a crop that has long symbolized Filipino identity. Supporting companies that ethically source their ube and enforce sustainable farming practices, in addition to advocating for indigenous Filipino land rights, are key to preserving both ube and the communities who have grown this crop for generations. Because ube is more than just a flavor to be consumed and posted online—it is a heritage symbol meant to be loved and preserved.