Around this time last year, we were marching. Though the verb isn’t quite accurate—it was pouring, the traffic was impossible, we were shoe-deep in muddied grass and bits of soft, torn-up protest signs and the most we could do in the way of actual movement was trudge forward after 20-minute intervals, an exercise in repetition-turned-temporary-reflex. Not that that mattered considering anything but convenience and comfort and the literal meaning of the word march. Jun. 29 at the Marikina Sports Complex was loud, and the people (it was all about the people) were themselves—partly, completely, parading different permutations of selfhood. The agenda was love as dissent, dissent as love. And though, as in many things, some cracks were visible, the point was we were there and it’s the stories that count.
Also: We were free to gather then. It’s a startling concept these days, a gathering. A year ago, we were free to think about what the Pride March and queer safe spaces meant, and what else needed to change before we could truly call this place a gay-friendly country. (The friendship remains superficial.) We can still do all this now, but not without first fearing for our health, not without first thinking of death as taking on a renewed sense of immediacy or arbitrariness. The practical facts are inescapable, rules are rules (read: some government officials think otherwise): intimacy has been prohibited, and the spaces that run on the deep, momentary bond among strangers have been deemed non-essential.
On June 19, Today x Future (TxF), a fixture in Cubao nightlife, permanently closed. It would’ve celebrated its 12th anniversary this year. The bar, above anything else, was a safe space. “Much of what makes it safe is not just the people who run it, but also those who are in it. There is a shared responsibility to ensure that Today x Future and Futur:st will be spaces that inspire and empower,” says Samantha Samonte, one of the co-founders of TxF and Futur:st.
For more than a decade, the owners and regulars shared a tacit dialogue about community and freedom and sexual identity; it was an institution deserving nothing less than an outpouring of lamentations and personal testimonies in reaction to its closure, and of course a Facebook group where people pretended to be at TxF. “Thank you for letting us be your space, your home where you grew up, fell in love, fell out of love, discovered so much, learned a lot, met so many people we’re sure you hold close until now,” its statement read.
Yet the fact that it closed down despite the unwavering patronage, frequent food service (and occasional pick-ups and deliveries), a brief AV collaboration series called Future Isolations, rent forgiveness from landlords and some help from fundraisers and donations can—as is the case these days—be almost perfectly explained by the pandemic. Still, how to make sense of such a loss? Maybe we can’t; maybe we shouldn’t. Because for now we can only turn to the fact of closure and its many meanings and repercussions, the worst of which is the loss of jobs. But also TxF closing means one less refuge for queer people in a country that sorely needs it, perhaps all the more so during an indefinite period of mandated isolation. “Countless queer people are not out, and are not accepted by their families within the households they’re living in. They’ve had to endure and suppress even more so during lockdown [where] how they are made to feel have been inescapable,” says Samonte.
Months into quarantine, Samonte and her business partners Leah Castañeda and Sharon Atillo did everything they could to keep both businesses afloat, relying in part on the kindness of patrons and strangers alike while exhausting their savings to keep paying their staff the same wages, as the term “non-essential” signaled an end. The owners of these so-called non-essential businesses have had to reconcile the nature of what they did for a living and the communities they’ve built with the immediate effects of a lethal virus. But for those who ran businesses that also served as queer safe spaces, the dilemma seemed not necessarily more complicated, but certainly a lot more far-reaching in its effects. It wasn’t just about not having a place to drink.
“It’s essential to cultivate spaces that naturally allow someone to feel safe and secure. Queer people [have been] experienc[ing] oppression in every shape and form for so long now, and to have a place where they can not only be free to be who they are but also be respected for who they are makes all the difference. It’s what makes them feel at home,” says Samonte, adding that their queer regulars “have always been expressive about their love and support.”
Futur:ist, which its owners describe as TxF’s “baby sibling,” remains open, along with the handful of other Makati bars and restaurants that also serve as safe spaces. As is the case for many of these establishments, 20:20 and XX XX, a bar and club nestled within a sort of tiny compound along Corner Sabio street, have also been resorting to online initiatives to stay alive. They’re participating in panel discussions and fundraisers and holding online streams with their resident DJs and artists. It’s how they’ve been interacting with their community, with many of their regulars often present in the streams.
“Unfortunately, we have not been able to pivot our business into something that generates income during this pandemic so we are depending heavily on how our landlords will charge us rent for the months of April till the time we are allowed to open. As a team, we took the time off to focus on how we can emerge from this unscathed,” says co-owner Anna Ong, who keeps in touch with their promoters and some guests. Their conversations aren’t all too different from the ones we’ve been having with our loved ones in the past months—what things were like before a global health crisis became our reality, what we’ve lost since then, and a constant longing for closeness marred by fear.
“I’ve spoken to some of our regular guests and yes, they do miss our venues. But we all agree that safety comes first—and we all need to be patient and wait for the right time before we get ourselves back on the dancefloor,” says Ong, who, along with her team had initially underestimated how long they were going to have to keep their venues closed. One month was the hopeful estimate, and now here they are, caught off-guard by the amount of time the pandemic is taking away from them. “Three months down and [we’re] still unable to go back to what it used to be.”
When these venues closed, we also lost the “freedom to let loose and interact without fear,” as Ong describes a basic right that has historically been denied to minorities. But it’s not like pre-COVID, homophobia and sexism didn’t exist as these forms of human blindness that need constant dismantling—the need for dissent remains just as crucial, it’s probably just harder to act on that need these days given, partly, the impossibility of closeness and the absence of safe spaces.
But do the implications of its absence make it essential? Here are places that could offer a sense of imperfect connection, solidarity, and security by way of simultaneous anonymity and visibility, things we could use during a time like this—except, of course, we can’t have that now. And though it’s painful (although a privilege, to some extent) to think about what used to be, this pandemic seems to demand that we accept that very few things are essential and that everything changes.
Where do the queer Catholics go?
In 1968 in California, a year before the Stonewall riots, Reverend Troy Perry put up an advertisement for a worship service designed for members of the LGBT community. Twelve people attended the service at Perry’s living room, launching what would soon become the Metropolitan Community Churches (MCC), the first (and oldest) church founded by LGBT people. In 2006, Filipinos joined the global MCC denomination, founding Open Table MCC, a progressive LGBT-affirming church that provides a safe space for LGBTQI+ Christians and supports LGBTQI+ and HIV advocacies.
The Mandaluyong-based church remained busy when quarantine started, digitalizing face-to-face worship services by holding an online service every Sunday, a kind of support group where people could talk about their pandemic experiences. They’ve also continued doing their weekly preaching podcast as well as started holding online classes on SOGIE and SOGIE Oppression. The tolls of shifting to an online platform, especially within a community for which physical proximity deeply mattered, aren’t lost on the church’s attendees. “Many of our members express how they miss being together in our Chapel and the after-worship dinners that we usually have. Safe spaces for LGBTs like our Church are sometimes the only places that LGBTs feel free to be as they are. We have a few people who are still closeted and being in our community gives them a sense of refuge and comfort. It is the only space where they feel accepted and are happy with people who have the same experiences and struggles as they have. It is here that LGBTs can worship, pray and sing…sometimes with their partners or lovers, free from judgment and condemnation,” shares Reverend Joseph San Jose, the pastor of Open Table MCC.
This church’s mere existence feels like a kind of fortunate (and necessary) anomaly—the Philippines is both pre-dominantly Catholic and insidiously intolerant of homosexuality. So where do the queer Catholics go? Reverend San Jose says that because devout Christians who are part of the LGBTQ+ community have been removed from their ministry (or worse, totally excommunicated from their church) for being gay, it makes all the difference to have Open Table MCC. In this church, he explains, people are encouraged “to be critical and to ask the hardest questions” as well as “reclaim and reconstruct their faith and spirituality in ways that are more loving, rational and relational.”
For queer people, part of that means going beyond the commercialized and token-oriented approach to pride, and, as Reverend San Jose says, “see[ing] themselves with their faith as important participants in the struggle for a just and equal world.” The pandemic didn’t exactly take away the solidarity, acceptance, education, and the liberty to worship Open Table MCC offers, but it did drastically alter a freedom that isn’t afforded to many queer people. Worse though, quarantine has further reinforced the toxic beliefs permeating many Filipino households. The complicated questions concerning faith, too, have taken on a new significance: Though for many people, faith can keep them sane during this pandemic, can the same be said about queer individuals living in fundamentalist households?
“Many young LGBTs are currently trapped in homes that have fundamentalist conservative families.”
“Many young LGBTs are currently trapped in homes that have fundamentalist conservative families. One young lesbian started to attend our online Sunday gathering primarily because she is in that situation where her family is conservative and are homophobic. Her only outlet was being part of our online gathering. So there are situations where faith for LGBTs continue to be a source of comfort and hope in difficult times, but there are situations where some LGBTs are trapped in families whose faith causes emotional, mental and even spiritual harm to them,” says Reverend San Jose.
Nobody knows how long this setup will last (and how long some of Open Table MCC’s attendees will have to wait before they can worship in person again), but the pastor thinks that even after quarantine, things won’t be the same—virtual safe spaces will exist alongside their physical counterparts, with many LGBTQIA+ communities and organizations tapping into the potential of the former.
The future of queer safe spaces
Obviously though, the digital revolution didn’t precede the pandemic. And even before we were forced to stay indoors and social gatherings became a dream, we were already headed towards an increasingly digitalized thought economy and sociopolitical landscape. Virtual safe spaces have long existed, and the pandemic has only emphasized their relevance.
MapBeks, an online community of volunteers helping the LGBTQIA+ locate queer safe spaces and HIV facilities in the country, has been particularly busy in the past months, holding a mapping party called LGBTQIA+ Safe Spaces last June 10, hosting free training seminars on mapping, and releasing two new interactive maps called “MapBeks Stories” and “Stories of Discrimination and Bullying” where people can share their personal stories as members of the LGBTQIA+ community.
The pandemic hasn’t really changed MapBeks’ operations, and, despite not getting to hold in-person mapping parties at the moment, their community of volunteers and the people for whom they’ve created their maps continues to be strong. “Despite everything, I have seen a stronger community as everyone is doing their jobs to stay at home. Drag queens [have gone] online to do shows for their friends or better yet just share a good show for others who are alone or lonely. [During] th[is] pandemic, where everyone is anxious and worried or would need someone to talk to or to go to, the LGBT community needs to be there,” says Mikko Tamura, a GIS specialist and the founder of MapBeks.
The point is to let people know that there are queer safe spaces in the country, and then to give them practical information on how these spaces and services can be accessed. In the face of quarantine restrictions, MapBeks highlights both virtual safe spaces and temporary online initiatives helmed by establishments people often frequented before the pandemic. “We try to mainstream these support groups, businesses, and services so people would know that they are there for the community. We hope to provide safeguards to the businesses and services that are currently available,” saysTamura.
And then there’s also visibility. Tamura says that “being on a map is a show of power and evidence of the reality.” Seeing queer-friendly restaurants, bars, clubs, churches, and health facilities mapped out is in itself a form of consolation and representation. It’s good to be reminded that these places exist, and that we could one day go back to them.
The pandemic has given this online volunteer community a lot of work to do, which hints at how the future of queer safe spaces will look: still largely uncertain, but will involve a massive shift to online groups and communities. “Queer safe spaces will continue to grow, but not in the physical sense. We’ll reach out to more LGBT groups in the future [and] in the next couple of months, we will be recruiting more volunteers to help us validate the safe spaces and HIV facilities that we were able to data-mine,” says Tamura.
How do we go from the melancholic we’ve lost so much to the practical what can be done?
As for bars, clubs, restaurants, and churches, the near future seems to be especially bleak—at least for now. But the people behind them remain hopeful, meaning they’re working harder than usual, with a vision of a post-pandemic version of safe spaces in mind. “Bars and clubs thrive on closeness and affection. That’s why it’s incredibly challenging to envision the opposite as the ‘new normal.’ However, I also believe that we need to do what we can until we can finally operate the way we want to—to again have that level of physical comfort we all miss. For now, I would rather choose a window of opportunity than not have anything at all,” says Samonte, who’s already expecting and preparing for new safety protocols. (They’re also set to hold an online pride party on Jun. 27.)
The new normal. It wasn’t such a terrible euphemism months ago. Overuse had rendered it meaningless, but I don’t blame anyone for clinging onto the possibility of eventual normalcy. We can’t even say the word “abnormal” to each other. Besides, we can’t be bothered with these terms for too long. The more pressing question seems to be, how do we go from the melancholic we’ve lost so much to the practical what can be done?
“We will definitely need to adjust. The door will be heavily involved with the screening of our patrons to ensure everyone’s well-being. [There will also be] temp checks and perhaps rapid testing if budget allows. QR Code scanning per guest for the collection of accurate information will be a major part of [our] venues. Signs such as ‘keep distance’ and ‘wash your hands’ will be seen. A no-PPE, no-entry policy will surely be in place at our venues. It is unfortunate that we have to have these measures but we must adapt for our survival,” says Ong.
Open Table MCC, on top of enforcing health protocols such as sanitizing before approaching the altar for communion, will be slightly stricter about the number of people who can attend their worship service. “We will not worship the same as we do before even if this becomes allowed. We will ask our members to register or inform us of their intention to attend a Sunday service ahead of time so we can determine how many and who can attend,” says Reverend San Jose. And how exactly would these worship services look?
“During our worship, LGBT people in our church normally hug each other and beso-beso. This will be prohibited. Wearing of masks would be required as long as they are inside the building where our chapel is located.”
I’ve readsomewhere that after the pandemic, queer safe spaces will see an upsurge in attendance, owing to the fact that some queer people lack typical support systems at home and as a result seek community in tight-knit social circles or in safe spaces. “When safe spaces open, they may be the first to come running because they have been longing for love, acceptance and authenticity. They miss genuine places and people. It will be a sort of release for them, and I’d be happy to have Futur:st be that place to welcome them back with open arms and plenty of shots, hahaha! This I think will still be the future of queer spaces: Be that place to embrace them. The only difference would is how we will move forward, health and safety-wise,” says Samonte.
What would a post-pandemic 20:20 and XX XX look like, I ask Ong, who answers: “It will look like a scene out of Mad Max.”
Disney’s “Ratatouille” is a gay coming-of-age film and you can’t convince me otherwise.
Think about it: The movie has all the hallmarks of a good piece of queer media. It’s got, for starters, growing up repressed in the countryside and sneaking in secret moments, trying not to get caught by your family you know won’t accept you. What is Remy coming into his own and finally living his truth in a cosmopolitan—Gay Paree, no less—if not a French rat version of Armistead Maupin’s classic “Tales of the City”?
So maybe Remy isn’t explicitly gay, but you can’t tell me that the way the movie frames his culinary ability and affinity for humans isn’t queer coded. “Now I’m living a secret life,” “I can’t choose between two halves of myself,” he says throughout the movie. (BTW, if you want to see a compilation of gay-coded Remy quotes, check this video out. It’s my bible.)
I think you can even make the case that Remy dealing with the intersection of his ratness and chefness illustrates how people who are marginalized twice have a harder time accepting themselves. It’s hard enough to be a rat in a human world, it’s a lot harder to be a rat chef (which means gay).
Okay, I know what you’re thinking. I can’t seriously think that Remy is gay, right? The thing is, I don’t think that’s particularly important. Whether or not I really think Remy is gay (which I actually do!) is not as important as whether or not I think he’s gay coded. As a queer person, decoding queerness in the otherwise straight media I grew up with is important to me. Being able to take a character and claim them as part of my community via a few phrases, a few actions prepares me for a lifetime of having to do so in my actual adult reality. It’s my cartoon preparation for “Do you listen to girl in red?”
I know this article is for our Heart Eyes, queer crushes series so I do have to say that I don’t have a crush on Remy. Though I have enough weird crushes that I just know if I did the Tiktok weird crushes challenge, I would defeat (and subsequently repel) everyone, I will point out right now that I love Remy but not in that way. He is my boyfriend in the same way that April Ludgate and Derek from “Parks and Rec” were boyfriends and girlfriends (minus the kissing), which is to say not really my boyfriend but kind of. He is the rodent Harry Cameron to my Evelyn Hugo.
One last take for the road, with feeling: In another life, where either no one is a rat or both of them are, Remy and Ego the critic would be boyfriends.
Sure, a lot of us Filipinos have been blasting Christmas jingles since September. But that means you may have already exhausted your go-to holiday albums. While there’s no such thing as too much Mariah Carey and Ariana Grande, we wouldn’t blame you if you’ve been itching to find new Christmas albums for the gays and by the people in our community.
Here’s a list of queer Christmas albums by queer artists. Let’s save those Christmas singles for another story.
“Christmas Party,” “Slay Belles,” and “Ho Ho Ho” by RuPaul
It comes as no surprise that someone as iconic as RuPaul has released not just one but three Christmas albums. “Christmas Party” from 2018 is his latest that includes remixes of Ru’s previously released holiday tracks and songs like “Hey Sis, It’s Christmas” (which has a separately released version featuring “Drag Race UK’s” Ella Vaday, Kitty Scott-Claus, and Krystal Versace).
“Slay Belles” from 2015 is our favorite among the bunch since it has the songs featured on “Drag Race: Green Screen Christmas” as well as the uplifting “Merry Christmas, Mary” and the ballad “Christmas Cookies.” It also features collabs like “Deck the Halls” with Todrick Hall.
“Ho Ho Ho” from 1997 started it all with campy covers such as “RuPaul the Red-Nosed Reindeer” and “I Saw Daddy Kissing Santa Claus.”
“Happy Holigays” by Mary Lambert
You might remember Mary Lambert as the featured singer on Macklemore’s “Same Love.” In 2020, she released “Happy Holigays”—a slightly amusing choice for the title since it’s full of not-so-jolly yet still comforting ballads like “Seasonal Depression.” Lambert still does sing with her wife Dr. Wyatt Hermansen on the sweet “Christmas Cookies,” which can’t get more holi-gay than that.
“Christmas Queens 1 to 4” by various “Drag Race” queens
Following in the footsteps of Mama Ru, the “Drag Race” queens have released four campy Christmas compilations filled with covers and original songs. Broadway star Jinkx Monsoon shows off her vocals in tracks like “Red and Green.” Jiggly Caliente is her usual fierce self in “Ratchet Christmas.” Manila Luzon and Alaska Thunderfuck are as funny in character as always on songs like “Working Christmas.” Our faves delivered!
“A Very Gaga Holiday” by Lady Gaga
Bi legend Lady Gaga has dropped fun singles like “Christmas Tree” and her “Winter Wonderland” duet with Tony Bennett. But since we are listing albums, the live EP “A Very Gaga Holiday” is what we added to our list. It includes her rendition of “White Christmas” that has an extra verse.
“Big Freedia’s Smokin Santa Christmas” and “A Very Big Freedia Christmas” by Big Freedia
You can count on Big Freedia to create hip-hop versions of Christmas classics that go hard. “Rudy, The Big Booty Reindeer” and “Santa Is a Gay Man” from “A Very Big Freedia Christmas” are bound to make it on the playlist for your Christmas party with friends. On “Big Freedia’s Smokin Santa Christmas,” he teamed up with Flo Milli to bring us “Better Be.”
If you look at the people that the LGBTQ+ community bow down to, they usually include the likes of Madonna, Lady Gaga, Diana Ross, Judy Garland, and Bette Davis. According to Huffington Post, most gay men tend to admire these women because of their “highly stylized femininity and toughness combined with abjection.” Another observation is because gay men and women are both considered minorities, and they could identify with that.
As of recent, the list of gay icons have become… interesting. There are still pop singers, but also some fictional characters that were sort of inducted in the “queer hall of fame.” Ideally, there’s a plausible reason why the LGBTQ+ community is worshipping them. But it just seemed like most of them all started as a joke and everyone just went along with it until people took it kinda seriously.
Not updated? Don’t worry, we’re giving you a rundown and the reasons behind their gay icon status.
Peppa Pig
Peppa Pig is a Nickelodeon character from a children’s show of the same name. She’s actually trended multiple times from being used in internet memes to becoming a bootleg fashion star in China. But as of yesterday, Dazed called her an LGBTQ+ icon after seeing netizens live for her sassiness, and the fact that Peppa Pig Radio on Spotify includes song from the likes of Doja Cat and Rina Sawayama.
Another reason Dazed gave is the fact netizens found out Peppa Pig is allegedly seven-feet tall. To quoted the outlet, her height “automatically makes her a model IMO.”
Does it make sense why she’s a gay icon now? No. Are people having fun with the idea? Absolutely, but we’re still confused.
Taylor Swift
POP SUPERSTAR, POLITICAL ACTIVIST, AND GAY ICON, MISS TAYLOR ALISON SWIFT EVERYBODY pic.twitter.com/RwLMfuwizW
This is a controversial entry. Swifties have been calling their idol a gay icon ever since she started publicly expressing her support for the LGBTQ+ community and rallying for the Equality Act’s passage. But many people weren’t buying Taylor’s allyship, even when she came out with the “You Need to Calm Down” music video and started wearing rainbow prints at shows.
It’s a valid critique since Taylor comes off as a self-serving feminist at times because she only speaks up when it benefits her. During Pride Month, for example, people thought she only did that to promote her upcoming album, Lover. But hey, many still believe she’s doing great work in directing the attention to the community and the Equality Act.
Here’s a pop star who has embraced her gay icon status well. Carly Rae Jepsen has gained the respect and support of the LGBTQ+ community for standing her ground against anti-gay organizations and being a regular performer at Pride events. Several of her songs have resonated with queer people, regardless if she meant them to or not.
The best part about Carly being a gay icon is she gives the stage to members of the LGBTQ+ community. One popular example is dancer and originator of #CutToTheFeelingFriday Mark Kanemura.
Sophia is one of the first humanoid robots made with an AI designed to make her responsive. It’s both impressive and scary to see her answering interview questions and giving speeches like a real human. She’s also the very first robot to become a citizen of Saudi Arabia. Yup, pretty crazy.
It’s hard to pin down how Sophia became a gay icon. A quick Twitter search would show netizens throwing around jokes and memes about gays hacking Sophia, and how the community was stanning her back in 2017. During this time, RuPaul’s Drag Race season 10 winner Aquaria also did a cosplay of the robot.
The most recent example of Sophia’s alleged LGBTQ+ alliance was last April. She tweeted that mathematician Alan Turing, who was gay, is one of her heroes.
However, in terms of her openly supporting the community, there’s none—save for a deleted tweet where she said she’s “curious about the gays.” (It’s still on Google if you look it up.) Maybe she’s not saying anything considering that she’s a Saudi Arabian citizen and the country isn’t exactly gay-friendly.
The Babadook
Disclaimer: The Babadook—both the film and character—frightens me. So imagine my confusion when my Twitter feed started calling him a gay icon out of nowhere.
Whether we like it or not, The Babadook is officially a gay icon because director Jennifer Kent acknowledged all the memes and she loves them. “I think it’s crazy and just kept him alive. I thought, ‘Ah, you bastard.’ He doesn’t want to die so he’s finding ways to become relevant,” she told Bloody Disgusting.
Good for the LGBTQ+ Babadook fans; bad for my terrified heart. Next.
Cuca the Alligator
Shortly after The Babadook made waves, Cuca the alligator came into the picture. She is a character from the Brazilian children’s show Sítio do Pica-Pau Amarelo where she plays a blonde witch. We can’t say for sure who started calling Cuca a gay icon, but netizens were living for her fashion choices (a strapless dress—fierce) and her overall fab vibe.
Cuca is the new meme queen even tho she's from 1921 but she was ahead of her time. pic.twitter.com/XJgGFie9f3
Who knew an alligator mascot would be this popular? Definitely not us.
Bert and Ernie
The lovable roommates from Sesame Street have been the subject of many LGBTQ+ discussions. Even though it wasn’t explicitly revealed in the show since they joined in 1969, writer Mark Saltzman, told Queerty last year that he wrote the characters based on his relationship with his late partner, Arnold Glassman.
That was confirmation enough for people who’ve supported Bert and Ernie’s close relationship, which is mostly assumed to be romantic. However, Sesame Street tried to debunk Mark’s claim and said they are merely “best friends” and they’re puppets that “do not have sexual orientation.” They said in a Twitter statement, “They were created to teach preschoolers that people can be good friends with those who are very different from themselves.”
Still, this didn’t sit well with fans of the show and those who’ve related with Bert and Ernie’s relationship. It’s understandable if they’re not romantically involved, but to dismiss Mark Saltzman’s queer characterization of them seemed like crossing a line. I mean, in terms of inclusivity, Sesame Street already has an official Muppet with autism, but they can’t bother to make an LGBTQ+ one yet despite expressing support to the community? We call shade.
***
Did we miss any gay icons? Let us know who they are and your favorites!
Art by Tricia Guevara
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Last week, conservative journalist Chadwick Moore commented on US gubernatorial candidate Christine Hallquist’s historic win as the first transgender major party nominee for governor of a US state. In an interview with Fox News, Moore basically said that Christine’s victory is due to her “transgender privilege.”
We quote: “She can get away with many, many things simply by being transgender […] I mean, who knows if that’s even how she won this primary. But while the entire country is fixated on the fact that she’s transgender, nobody knows anything about her policies.”
Well, the Internet wasn’t having it. Immediately after the interview, #TransgenderPrivilege became a trending topic, with several netizens correcting the journalist as to what the phrase really means.
#transgenderprivilege is when conservative lawmakers are trying to make your very existence illegal but are still among the “chasers” trying to coerce you into sex & asking breathlessly if you’ll “top” them.
#transgenderprivilege is disclosing trans status and applying for 46 jobs you can do blindfolded and not getting a single interview.
NOT declaring trans status for 6 jobs and getting 4 interviews.
#TransgenderPrivilege is having #Texas require a signed affidavit from an “older relative” giving you permission to change your own damn birth certificate.
#transgenderprivilege is having to beg strangers online for money so you can move your child away from the town she was born in because the local yokels are threatening to beat her & mutilate her in the bathroom at school.
#transgenderprivilege is going to a mass-funeral every year in November because cis people have been literally hunting & killing our Sisters & Brothers all year long.
#transgenderprivilege is being blamed for the negative and hurtful behaviors of others. Being told that you “deserve it”, and that it’s “your choice”. As if there was ever an option other than being yourself…
#transgenderprivilege is fearing that to actually get a job you will have to either go back in the closet or cut your hair dress like men are “supposed to” and probably go on T so you can actually pass
The outpour of tweets ironically gave light to the marginalized state of transgenders. A US Trans Survey conducted in 2015 detailed how transgender people are more prone to verbal harassment, work discriminations such as getting fired or denied a job or promotion due solely on their gender identity, and physical assault by members of their own family. Moreover, according to reports, many transgender Americans have a hard with even being able to vote in elections.
In an interview with Them, current President of the LGBTQ Victory Fund, Annise Parker said, “They claimed Vermont primary voters know nothing beyond her gender identity while in fact the opposite is true—voters chose Christine because of her experience and positions, not because of her gender identity, and it is an insult to Vermont voters to say otherwise.” She also pointed out why the Fox News interview was even more problematic. “For two cisgender white men on Fox News to bemoan ‘transgender privilege’ in a conversation about one of the few openly trans candidates in the entire nation requires extraordinary ignorance, at best.”
Art by Marian Hukom
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“Misunderstood” is one of the words that can describe trans and gender-variant Filipinos. But it’s not how we want to be defined. As an ever-evolving community, perhaps anyone’s best bet in understanding these identities is simply with unwavering conviction to hear and be heard.
This love month, we wanted to highlight the journeys of local trans and gender-variant individuals to love and acceptance. We had a chat with four members of the community: trans lesbian writer and The Society of Trans Women of the Philippines (STRAP) member Veronica Litton, nonbinary/agender copywriter and musician F. Maria Regalado, bakla poet and activist March A.L., and My Transgender Date trans co-founder Maki Gingoyon. Here’s how our conversation went.
Tell us a bit about how you came to terms with your SOGIE. Did being a Filipino and living here make it easier or harder for you?
March: I think that for many gender-variant Filipinos, being Filipino can be one of the most complicating factors in our journeys of self-discovery. Being Filipino definitely complicated my own, but I wouldn’t use words like “harder or easier” to describe the relationship between being Filipino and being queer. I went from first labeling myself as gay, then as nonbinary, before finally realizing the limits of Western labels like those, and that what best described me was the simple, true, and Filipino word “bakla.”
“We live in a society where we feel either totally freakish and undesirable on one end, or flat out fetishized or hypersexualized on the other.”
Being Filipino and being queer is complicated and nearly paradoxical—Filipinos both celebrate and yet devalue bakla and tomboys; we are both normalized and yet still othered—but whether easier or harder, I believe it’s this colonial situation which informs nearly all of our experience as queer Filipinos.
Maria: It was honestly just a matter of having language to describe my specific gendered experience. There’s the whole deal with having to negotiate the way I view and/or present myself in light of a dominant cishet framing of gender. I guess I just have layers to myself that I peel back depending on how welcome I feel around people. Most of my close friends know I’m nonbinary. Some people still view me as a man, but I tend to not feel so bad about it in light of masculine privilege affording me a degree of “invisibility.”
My family doesn’t understand it, so I don’t push it (unfortunately, this precludes discussion of gender-specific grievances). The thing here is, I’m not sure how much Filipino culture has to do with it. Like any place in the world, there will be conservative and progressive pockets of culture.
Veronica: Once I figured it out, it all clicked. But even then, it took me years to process and come to terms with so much of myself that I had repressed over the years. It has to be stressed that unlike a lot of other trans, nonbinary, and gender-nonconforming people, I am relatively privileged. I was accepted by the people around me when I came out and I’m lucky to be surrounded by so many supportive people in my life. I hardly experience anything remotely transphobic. And when I do, it’s usually because the people around me are still having a hard time understanding what it is to be trans. I’m okay with that, because it’s a step in the right direction and at least it can lead to an open and honest conversation.
While we still have a long ways to go, the Philippines is a lot more open and accepting towards transgender than other countries. I’ve actually met people who moved here because we’re a lot more open and accepting in general.
A photo of Veronica
Maki: Being in the Philippines is easier to be a trans woman because you can easily find support anywhere—thanks to our tolerant culture towards the gay community. I am specifically using the term gay here because until now, there remains [more] prejudice against other sexual orientations like the lesbians and the bisexuals, as well as trans identities.
Coming out was not easy, though I did not have a hard time because my family is accepting and loving which is a privilege that not many of us have. It wasn’t easy for me because I knew my mom would get hurt and I was also fearful especially because my family is male-dominated.
How would you describe the Filipino trans umbrella?
Maria: I don’t think there’s an essential trans identity, for one. It’s something people do. In this country, there are recorded historical precedents for transgender people, but I’m wary of shoehorning that into contemporary conceptions of trans identity 1:1— we can’t really claim continuity here. The identities they assume, and the cultural/social spaces they occupy won’t be the same ones trans people live and work in today. The bakla identity kind of interests me in that it’s a catchall that’s seen somewhat inclusive use, but also struggles to adapt in light of some consistent differences that happen underneath that umbrella.
A photo of F. Maria
March: In my view, queer/gender-variant Filipinos are so immensely numerous and diverse that we transcend even a term like “trans umbrella.” To start, “trans” is a Western term, and we shouldn’t forget that the vast majority of gender-variant Filipinos (particularly the lower in class you go, and further from the urban centers) instead describe themselves with native words like “bakla” or “bayot,” “tomboy,” “tibo,” and so on. There are of course many of us as well however who use imported words instead. But what we should always remind ourselves as queer Filipinos is that what unites us as an “umbrella” is the oppression and struggle we all share against our patriarchal society and bureaucrat-capitalist government.
“We need to start treating [the understanding of gender dysphoria] not as a burden on those who we want to have deep relationships with, but as a minimum.”
When do struggles in trans self-identity and expression cross over to romance? Was finding love difficult for you?
Maki: As the co-founder of mytransgenderdate.com, I can still see that trans women still go through hard times in finding love and the challenges of the pandemic just multiplied it by 10. Before creating our site, the online dating scene for trans women was very poor and frightening. Most of the trans dating sites usually mix pornography, escorting, and dating in one website. Trans women on these sites are often presented as sex objects [or] a fetish. We wanted to make a difference. We wanted to create a clean and safe site for transgender women.
By the time you start crushing on someone, the struggle immediately begins. There still is a stigma towards being attracted to trans women or having a relationship with trans women. I just hope that it wouldn’t be a big deal [anymore] with the continous visibility of trans women in the Philippines and transgender relationships.
March: We live in a society where we feel either totally freakish and undesirable on one end, or flat out fetishized or hypersexualized on the other. And most of the time, love and romance are set up in a way which invalidates us as trans people. In Philippine society especially, bakla for instance are far more seen as one-sided clowns or entertainers than deep individuals and viable, loveable partners. But we always have to keep in mind that there are people who [will] love us as our full, real selves—however impossible patriarchal messaging might make it seem.
A photo of March
Maria: I’m assigned male at birth and only really came out in the past five years. Most of my dating history was under the assumption of masculinity. My current partner is actually the first person to actually help me articulate a working model of what this whole mess of being is. I got lucky.
If I was on the block now, I’d probably have a weird time trying to navigate the dating scene as a nonbinary, panromantic grey ace. Sex was something I had a lot of baggage with (and probably still do). I wouldn’t know what to do with myself with this relatively recent awareness of neglected platonic needs on top of the trans stuff.
Veronica: I’m currently unattached [but] personally, I think dating became so much better once I transitioned because not only do I know myself a lot better, I’m more aware of my wants and needs, and what I’m looking for in a partner. Dating has become a lot more fulfilling for me.
“Once we have that sense of self in place, looking for love becomes so much easier and so much more fulfilling than it did before.”
Is it important for you that your partner can grasp the toll of gender dysphoria/body dysmorphia?
Maki: A hundred percent yes! Our partners are our most important allies. Understanding your partner regardless of whether they are trans or not is just the basic foundation of any relationship which leads to acceptance. The key here is being open with your partner. I’m always honest with my partner about what I am going through mentally and physically so he can support me. Your partner [also] needs to be aware of and understand social issues concerning transgender people.
A photo of Maki
Veronica: Relationships go both ways and having someone who’s open-minded enough to navigate intimacy with you is such an important thing. And from personal experience, it can lead to incredibly fulfilling moments that can completely affirm who you are as a person.
March: Gender dysphoria is especially sensitive in sexual matters, and a romantic partner has to understand their partner’s gender dysphoria in order to know how to properly treat them and their body without hurting them. We need to start treating this not as a burden on those who we want to have deep relationships with, but as a minimum.
What’s your advice on finding gender euphoria and a happy relationship?
Maki: Achieving gender euphoria takes time and in some cases it involves money. Not everyone opts to medically transition. But from my experience, physical and medical transitioning was imperative to healing my dysphoria. Of course, there are other social factors that may be obvious to us but not to the people around us. When you transition, the people around you will join in your transition too. Your family starts calling you by your name and pronoun. That is part of transitioning and it takes time. Finding a happy relationship is not just about finding the right partner. Be the right person instead of searching for the right person.
Veronica: [Transitioning] can be very difficult, because it’s so easy to give in to the anger and the outrage. But I really do believe our patience and supportiveness is really the most defining quality of the trans community. My life changed for the better. I have the life that I want, the job that I want, and the company of people who truly matter to me. Once we have that sense of self in place, looking for love becomes so much easier and so much more fulfilling than it did before.
I’m very open and transparent when I’m dating, especially when I’m on the apps. I don’t have the time or patience to guess whether or not the girl I’m interested in is interested in dating a trans woman. I’d rather get that out of the way as soon as possible so I can see whether or not there’s a future there together.
March: Dealing with transphobia and gender dysphoria is also about empowering ourselves and fighting against our oppression. Dysphoria and transphobia are constructs of a patriarchal society which we can abolish. Go read feminist texts and get organized. Nothing will make you love yourself more than feeling empowered, and nothing will make you feel more empowered than knowing how to fight what puts you down.
I think we can all agree: Dating is hard. It’s an even more challenging ordeal for the LGBTQ+ community. Modern dating, aka dating apps, there are more present in the. In fact, a 2017 survey by the Kinsey Institute and female health app Clue, which compiled answers from more than 140,000 adults in 198 countries, showed that there are nearly twice as many LGBTQ+ people use dating apps as heterosexual ones.
“Even as society has become more accepting of LGBTQ+ people, dating apps can provide a sense of safety and community they might not have otherwise—something their heterosexual counterparts often take for granted,” A Plus noted. Speaking with Little Gay Book author and lesbian matchmaker Dr. Frankie Bashan, they stressed that apps provide options previously limited to the community. “Apps can transform anyone’s phone into a virtual gay bar where, even if they don’t make a lasting love connection, they can still make connections with fellow LGBTQ+ people and uncover potentially hidden communities,” Dr. Bashan said. It also offers a sense of security. Sadly, for the LGBTQ+ community, the possibility of rejection leading to violence is a very real threat. “Dating apps offer an additional level of safety for typically marginalized groups,” Dr. Bashan claimed.
One way in which dating apps give a sense of safety is that it allows users to input specificity when looking for a potential partner. “Within the queer community, there’s so many labels and ways to describe ourselves that I don’t even know them all,” Dr. Bashan admits. Some platforms, she noted, do a better job in providing these additional options than others. She reveals to A Plus that one of the biggest complaints she hears from her clients is that they have trouble indicating the particular SOGI they’re attracted (i.e, “they can’t indicate on the butch-femme spectrum or the masculinity-feminity spectrum.”) She claimed, “A lot of sites don’t offer that, and that’s a big difference between a heterosexual matchmaker and a lesbian matchmaker.”
Unfortunately, not everyone can get the services of LGBTQ+-focused matchmakers like Dr. Bashan. That’s why we turn to apps. And as she demonstrated, in terms of dating, the queer commuity has specific needs lacking in some dating aps primarily made with heterosexual relationships in mind. Arguably the most famous app for the LGBTQ+ community is Grindr.
Enter Curv—“the first inclusive social and dating app that offers a platform for queer Filipinos to connect.” What makes it different? According to their site, “Curv values connection, community, and equality. Consider this app a sharp turn away from the culture of discrimination on other queer social apps.” Additionally, they claim they urge users to “build a culture of respect, to meet people beyond their part of the rainbow, and hey, maybe even welcome more diversity in the people they date.”
As part of their mission of creating a “fresh environment of respect among the LGBTQ+ community in the Philippines,” they have started the #BendConventions campaign. Tapping members of the LGBTQIA community for a photo campaign, they were able to interpret the slogan in a way that depicts the diversity of queer love and representation. Their subjects, include trans activist Janlee Dungca and sex-positive advocate Trisha O’ Bannon—people who “remind us that there’s nothing to lose when we swerve from stereotypes and kick discrimination to the curb.”
Considered “gay-friendly,” it would seem a Filipino-made dating app seemed a safe and obvious project. But Bianca Natola, member of the Curv team, tells us, “This actually started as a male gay dating app but the deeper into its development we got, the more we began to see the bigger picture. We realized the need for true inclusivity, that realized the gaps that needed to be filled holds true for all sexualities and gender.”
Reviewing the dating scene of the LGBT community in the Philippines today, she said, “There’s certainly a need for a safe space where people’s different wants, needs, their stories, identity and nuances are already directly acknowledged and even celebrated.”
And while she admits the app cannot entirely assure that discrimination won’t happen among users, since they’re “not in control of how other people treat one another,” she asserted that, “through this platform, we can definitely help change mindsets, redefine norms and establish that discrimination is not something we condone.” She adds, “Our values of connection, community, equality guides our initiatives, campaigns, events and how we develop the technology for the app itself to foster that kind of environment. We’re constantly developing based on the needs of the community.”
As a start, they’re currently in the process of including “as many kinds of gender identity and sexual orientations as options [in] the profile.” This then answers the pressing dilemma for many LGBTQ+ persons looking to date, as Dr. Bashan revealed. Bianca affirms its significance, noting, “Who you are attracted to, how you identify yourself and express yourself is deeply personal and integral to who we are. So even small ways wherein these options actually exist and people can choose for themselves is a big deal for us.”
Curv is not yet available but will be soon. It’s certainly interesting to see how it could change the dating scene for the LGBTQ+ community. In the meantime, you can check out their site for more info and updates.
Photos courtesy of Curv
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There is something both audacious and otherworldly about the Cebu-based model and designer’s style—which is avant-garde and vaguely Mugler-esque—and the way they carry themselves.
Going through Lukresia’s feed is like watching a rare talent you can’t believe is still here. My favorite photo of Lukresia from their social feed is of them inside a public bus. It’s an evocative picture—a skimpy, banana leaf bikini top and beads over a thin black headscarf all in the middle of a commuting milieu.
It looks reckless, dynamic, and spunky, as if their very presence is able to queer up and elevate spaces. It’s fashion but radical and Filipino. That online moniker @thirdworldbb then? Spot on.
We talked to Lukresia about Cebu’s fashion scene, reclaiming “bayot” and “boang,” and taking their rightful place in fashion.
Lukresia for Preen
The bb in thirdworldbb is from bayot boang. Why did you choose to reclaim that?
[Bayot] is generally how one would describe a queer person in Bisaya. Although it is dynamic, it has unfortunately become a slur used mostly by cis people to project prejudice. [But] when we say it among queer people, it is empowering. I had it tattooed to try to reclaim the beauty in the word. For boang, which literally means eccentric or crazy, I am one.
[But] these are [only] words and labels and we barely need them. I got it on my skin as a personal decision to remind myself of my worth and I refuse to have “love yourself” tattooed on me.
For Lukresia, “fashion and queerness are symbiotic“
Do you have any thoughts on how queerness intersects with fashion, especially now that there are more calls for fashion to be more intersectional?
Fashion and queerness are symbiotic. We run fashion. Without us, fashion would be bland. Can you imagine? That’s a bold statement, but I live by it. [But] there is a thing about tokenizing queer people. My wish is for us to be genuinely appreciated.
“Now, the bitch is here”
How did you get into fashion? When did you know that you wanted to be a designer and a model?
FashionTV at 5 a.m. before school [when I was in high school]. I was already into sketching and mimicking how models would walk, but at [that] point I still [hadn’t] thought of this as my passion. [It was] only when I was in college studying restaurant management that I wondered why I was there and [I realized] that I needed to be somewhere else—and now the bitch is here.
What’s the Cebu fashion scene like?
I would just describe it as still, you know, like… water.
“I am fashion. The world needs to see me. I will go global with our backyard with me”
Some of my favorite sets from you are where you’re out in public living your best life, disrupting the people around you, like in your street photos or that set where you’re posing inside a bus. However, I’d assume that not everyone is as receptive to seeing someone so confidently different and that does feel like it has the potential to put you in an unsafe or dangerous situation. How do you navigate that?
For the longest time I kept myself within the walls of our household. I didn’t have the confidence to even wear shirts without sleeves as I was too insecure about my arms being broad and the list goes on.
“I couldn’t point out exactly when I developed my confidence, but I’m happy I did“
I couldn’t point out exactly when I developed my confidence, but I’m happy I did. It greatly helps if you surround yourself with people who are genuinely appreciative of what you do.
My friends in Cebu don’t relate with my work. Most of them work for corporate. They don’t understand what and why I do what I do but they love seeing me do my sh*t. It is a different dynamic when I see my friends over in Manila. They get it, they just do. I’m grateful that I get to experience and share this divergence because although [my circles] differ, the love is there. When you know you are appreciated, that’s when fear of outside judgment gets erased.
“I am fashion. The world needs to see me. I will go global with our backyard with me“
What’s in store for Lukresia? Do you have any plans to walk runways abroad?
Of course! That’s always been the goal. I did not tune into FashionTV at 14 years old for me not to actually be there. I have to be there. I am fashion. The world needs to see me. I will go global with our backyard with me. It is the only way and it’s on its way. It’s what we deserve.
Here’s a 2020 silver lining: Filipina Mela Habijan was crowned the first-ever Miss Trans Global on Sept. 12.
If you’re new to this pageant, the recently launched Miss Trans Global is an online international eleganza centered on trans and gender-nonconforming people, and it aims to spread awareness on different LGBTQ+ issues. The winner of the pageant will serve as the voice for their advocacies and work digitally to influence change for the community. This year’s new queen, Habijan, is an actress and trans rights advocate.
Habijan has long been a voice of transgender issues. She uses her platform to educate people about the LGBTQ+ community and is vocal about trans representation in the media. She advocates for and educates about trans rights in her YouTube series “3Some!” and spent an episode of Manilennials (which she was a main cast member of) to shine a light on everyday microaggressions that trans people face.
Apart from her win being “a childhood dream come true,” she dedicates it in honor of all of her transgender siblings, and will use her win as a way to unite and work together as “one trans community.” The day after her online coronation, she expressed in a Facebook post, “This is truly a defining moment in my life—a childhood dream that came true, a celebration of my truth, a testament of the love and acceptance that I get from the world, and my little way of honoring the life and dignity of Jennifer Laude and other trans Pinays ridiculed and oppressed [by] society.”
Her plans for the community as Miss Trans Global include: “Transform Woman,” a support group on social media for trans people; “True Colours,” a website that will feature notable transgender personalities and #Womanity, an online campaign to widen the transgender community by establishing connections and support worldwide.
Mela Habijan’s win means a lot for our trans community. With the harrowing year we’ve had to face, this win serves as a catapult to fight discrimination and violence against the LGBTQ+ community. To have this platform and this voice for the people who are not being heard is a big step forward for all of our trans brothers and sisters. Aiding in the growth of the representation and awareness of the LGBTQ+ community. We can’t wait to see what you have in store, queen. Congratulations!
Too often, the narratives of our Muslim siblings are forgotten when discussing the plight of the LGBTQIA+—but their narratives have always existed.
This year a documentary titled “Budjang” is participating in the Southeast Asian Queer Cultural Festival and is available for free streaming on its website until March 13. The docu follows the story of a transgender woman in a Muslim barangay who finds herself on a village seat after being abandoned by her parents.
We had a chat with filmmaker and human rights activist Rhadem Camlian Morados about his film’s role in the signing of the Zamboanga City anti-discrimination ordinance and the struggles of the Moro LGBTQIA+ community.
Can you tell us a bit about how the idea for the film was conceived?
Rhadem: [I’ve] worked with the Mujer-LGBT Organization Incorporated [on my] previous film about the LGBTQIA+ Muslim Moros in BARMM (Bangsamoro Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao). For “Budjang,” we were approached by the ASEAN SOGIE Caucus to produce a short film for the Southeast Asia Queer Cultural Festival. They wanted a story that focuses on narratives in the provinces. At that time, Mujer-LGBT and I, along with equality champs like councilor Lilibeth Macrohon Nuño, have been lobbying for the passage of the anti-discrimination ordinance in my hometown Zamboanga City.
Asmin Jallih walks the streets of Taluksangay in her Sangguniang Kabataan shirt
How was the process of producing and shooting the film different from your other projects?
Rhadem: We started filming “Budjang” early in January 2020 and were able to finish it before the lockdown. However, there were still challenges because of it. Communication was temporarily hampered because [we had to move]. We took so long with post-production because we couldn’t enter the village of Taluksangay when it underwent a strict lockdown. Our main character, Asmin Jallih, didn’t have a mobile phone. We also faced economic challenges. [We were only] able to finish collecting and editing all the materials this January.
Why did you choose the title “Budjang?”
Rhadem: “Budjang” means dalagita in Tausug, my ethnolinguistic [background]. [Putting] Tausug elements in the film was a way for me to bring cultural awareness to the struggles faced by the Moro LGBTQIA+ [community].
Dancers performing the Budjang cultural dance
Can you walk us through what the Comprehensive Anti-Discrimination City Ordinance No. 543 entails?
Rhadem: It took us many years to lobby for the anti-discrimination ordinance in Zamboanga City, given its conservative [community]. We at MUJER-LGBT are supporters and lobbyists of the national SOGIE Bill as well. We thought that maybe it would be [better] to rally for an anti-discrimination ordinance to mediate LGBTQIA+ [issues] in Zamboanga City than to wait for the national SOGIE Bill to be passed in Congress—given that it has [remained] unsigned for 14 years or so.
We originally produced this film to gather more supporters for the ordinance and put pressure on local politicians. The pandemic happened and the attention was massively diverted. However, we continued lobbying for it despite the pending film release.
Late last year, the ordinance was finally passed and signed by the local government unit of Zamboanga City. It promises to acknowledge and protect not just the LGBTQIA+, but also Indigenous people and People with Disabilities, from abuse and discrimination at work, in city policies, and so on. It’s a more inclusive anti-discrimination policy. Now, the goal of the film has shifted from passing the ordinance to helping bring awareness to the importance of the SOGIE Equality Bill.
The signing of the Comprehensive Anti-Discrimination City Ordinance No. 543 on Oct. 14, 2020 in Zamboanga City
How did you meet Asmin Jallih and Lilibeth Macrohon Nuño?
Rhadem: Councilor Lilibeth Nuño is one of the major supporters of the ordinance, and MUJER-LGBT has been working closely with her in drafting and making strategies for the [passing of the ordinance]. It so happened that one of our contacts in Taluksangay knew Asmin, the trans Sangguniang Kabataan (SK) treasurer of that place.
Asmin talked about experiencing job discrimination in the film. Can you tell us more about it?
Rhadem: Asmin currently gets her income from working as an SK treasurer. Before she got that job, she used to work as a [house-to-house] helper and nanny to support her family. Many close-minded people in the Philippines think that trans people [willingly choose] work in undesirable environments such as sex work. But they fail to realize that most trans individuals have no choice but to walk that path and endure ridicule, insults and discrimination. Most Muslim businesses, and sometimes even government posts in conflict areas, do not accept or hire trans workers. If there are many trans folk in Metro Manila who have a hard time getting hired because of their gender [identity] or how they look, how much harder is it for trans individuals in Bangsamoro or other conservative provinces?
Asmin referred to herself in the documentary as a trans woman and with the term “bantot” meaning gay. Is there a reason behind this?
Rhadem: Yes, in the Moro language, we don’t have a specific or designated word for transgender folk. Many Moro and Mindanao folk still call trans people gay.
In the film, a local religious leader talked about “accepting” LGBTQIA+ individuals when they’re productive. Do you think that there’s a double standard for the LGBTQIA+?
Rhadem: Yes, just like Indigenous people, the LGBTQIA+ community usually has to prove their worth and work twice as hard for others to even tolerate their existence. That isn’t acceptance, in my opinion. There are many Moro religious leaders who don’t even recognize the existence of LGBTQIA+ as something natural. Some still support conversion therapy and [approaches] such as forced marriage and legalized rape.
Given the politics in Moro and other religious regions, [including] the religious leader [featured in the film is like a] light in the darkest room. It gives [me] hope that in some way, they are open to embracing the LGBTQIA+ as their equals in the near future.
Watch out for the official launch of our documentary film #BUDJANG online at Southeast Asia Queer Cultural Festival this month!
Rhadem: I have made a few documentaries focusing on Mindanao history, culture, arts and human rights issues. [Each one was] screened [abroad] and some even garnered recognition and awards. But I still feel that there is much to be done when it comes to awareness and representation. Many of my audiences, in first- or third-world countries, still can’t believe that there are Moro Muslims in the Philippines and how colonial powers massacred and [nearly] erased us from history books.
It is also difficult for me to screen my documentaries here in the Philippines because we have [a small] market for them. That’s why being able to share the stories of my people with the international community is very significant for me [and] those who also want to feel that they belong—be they the LGBTQIA+, the Moro Sultanates, Bangsamoro, or the women and children of Mindanao. If I can’t help educate my fellow Filipinos, I’ll [try doing it internationally] instead.
What’s your message to members of the Muslim LGBTQIA+ community?
Rhadem: Always stand for your rights and be strong enough to fight for them, in whatever way you can. Our time might not be now, but let’s make sure that the next generation of LGBTQIA+ Moro will have a better, kinder and more accepting [future].
In the movie Love, Simon, the titular character struggles with himself and his relationship with other people as he hides the fact that he’s gay. He had several internal dialogs about wanting to come out but still waiting for the right time. Ultimately, someone else exposed his true identity for everyone in their school to see.
This situation is all too common IRL. A gay/lesbian/bisexual person comes out to their friends or whoever follows them online, but a lot of them haven’t told their families. Sadly, sometimes there’s that person who’ll use this secret to gain attention or as a weapon to destroy someone.
Even people who are allegedly gay fall victim to this. When Tony Labrusca started trending online because of his behavior at the airport, there was one netizen who claimed Tony was with his boyfriend. Another tweeted the hashtag “#HeHasABF” like that’s part of the issue that everyone’s pissed about. (The latter has been deleted the last time I checked.)
Here’s the thing: Nobody knows for sure if Tony Labrusca is gay because, as far as we know, he hasn’t addressed this to the general audience. Still, if he is, in fact, gay, that still doesn’t give people an excuse to recklessly out him to anyone. If he’s not, it doesn’t make it any better because the LGBTQ+ would feel that they’re danger of being outed by people who don’t know them.
And no, we’re not defending Tony’s actions in any way—that’s unacceptable if it’s proven true. But if you’re going to call him out on anything, focus on his behavior and not the fact he was with an alleged boyfriend. It’s creating this narrative that being gay is bad—so much for equality, right?
On the other hand, many probably think that they’re doing people a favor for simply telling the truth. Oh, they are. Though I don’t think it’s the same for anyone who’s been prematurely outed because some insensitive person just took away their power to do it when they’re ready. If you think about it, it’s another form of silencing the members of the LGBTQ+ community.
What these people don’t realize is how dangerous this act can be. There was a recent incident that trended on Twitter wherein a guy was practically disowned by his family because his post was spread on Facebook. The post, he said, was shared without his permission. A report by the National LGBTQ Task Force also stated that outing can lead to suicide, citing court cases and news headlines about gay people who were told that their secret will come out if they don’t comply, among others.
We’re all subscribed to this notion that our true selves matter. However, it’s not our job to force it upon other people. As Mikhail Quijano, Wolfe + Huntr co-founder, tweeted, “It puts them in a situation they don’t wanna be in, so it [obviously] won’t ‘help the community’ or ‘help them be true to themselves.’” So, you see, you’re not doing it for their interests. You’re catering to your own moral compass in the expense of other people’s comfort.
What purpose does outing others serve anyway? It puts them in a situation they don't wanna be in, so it obvs won't "help the community" or "help them be true to themselves" like others say. Others even end up making it seem like being gay is a negative quality. So yeah, nil.
The next time you feel the need to tell everyone that someone—even your loved ones—is gay, ask yourself: Will it be okay with them? Did they already come out to the people I’m talking to right now? Will there be consequences if I mention their sexual orientation and/or identity? Am I even sure that my loved one isn’t straight?
If you answered no or are unsure, then zip it. That is not your call, it’s theirs.
So I just finished watching The Umbrella Academy—I know, I’m late to the party. But hey, I’m here (finally), and all I can say is, I am obsessed. I have officially gone deep in my researching for theories and analyses about what happened and what to expect for the next season—if there is one (please have one!) Though there are some stuff about the Netflix adaptation I’m quite iffy about, I particularly loved Number Four’s character. To be fair, I’ve always been a fan of Robert Sheehan so I may have been biased towards his character. I especially liked how they portrayed his sexuality. Though we barely saw Dave—the love of his life—throughout the series, it was clear how significant he was to Number Four. He made him better when they were together, and he continued to make him a better person even after he has passed. Basically, a love story like any other.
But aside from Number Four, there are actually a lot of queer superheroes out there. Here are some you may not know about—or you might know them—but not about that aspect of their characters. So read on. You might be surprised.
Coagula
Thanks to transwoman writer Rachel Pollack who took over Doom Patrol from Grant Morrison, we are blessed with this iconic character who’s a transwoman like her creator. Kate Godwin a.k.a. Coagula is a superheroine with the ability to turn liquids into solids and vice versa. She teamed up with the Doom Patrol in 1993. Now that Doom Patrol has a TV series, we’re crossing our fingers she’ll make an appearance there.
Loki
Loki has the ability to take on the forms of both men and women, so it makes great sense for them to be bisexual. Also, as the Norse god put it in Young Avengers, the concept of sexuality doesn’t necessarily stand in Asgardian culture. In fact, Odin calls him as his “child who is both [male and female]” And in 2013, writer Al Ewing confirmed that “Yes, Loki is bi and I’ll be touching on that. He’ll shift between genders occasionally as well.”
Batwoman
Ironically, Kate Kane first made her appearance in the 1950’s as Batman’s love interest–to quell the “homosexual propaganda” against Batman. But on her return in the 2000s, she was written as a lesbian. Newsarama lauds her relationship with Detective Renee Montoya for being well-written, and a great example of “nuanced queer relationships,” whose “visibility helped open up doors for many other characters moving forward.” And we’ll soon see her in the big screen played by none other than actress Ruby Rose who identifies as lesbian too.
Deadpool
Oh yeah. In case you didn’t know, the “coolest” superhero, the Merc with a Mouth, is actually pansexual. Throughout the comics, he was shown to be attracted to the likes of Thor, Cable, Bea Arthur, and even Spider-Man. Oh, how we wish the movie could be more faithful to its comic counterpart. We’re sure Ryan Reynolds could do it. I mean technically, he’s already flirting with Colossus in the movies.
Northstar
Northstar, member of the Canadian superhero team Alpha Flight, is iconic in many ways. Many consider him as the first openly gay character in Marvel, for one. Though it wasn’t untill 1992 that he explicitly identified himself as gay, creator John Byrne explained that he’s always been intended to be gay, “even if I would never be allowed to say it in so many words in the comics themselves.” Northstar further made headlines in 2012 when he married his sweetheart and business manager, Kyle Jinadu, making it the first same-sex marriage in superhero comics. Oh, and before that, he slept with Hercules at least once, so yeah. Iconic is a word for him.
Iceman
Yup, the “playboy” Bobby Drake who dates Rogue in the original X-Men trilogy and one of the founding members of the X-Men is actually gay. It only came to light when he was “outed” by Jean Grey who discovered his sexuality by reading his mind. According to Book Riot, “In one comic, Bobby explained that he’d kept his sexuality to himself because he got enough persecution for being a mutant.” Daily Dot further noted that there are actually two existing versions of this character: “A teenage Iceman who realized he was gay after Jean Grey read his mind, and an adult version who stayed in the closet and dated women for years, but came out after being confronted by his younger self.” Yeah, this character is too real.
Wonder Woman
Yup, the feminist icon is also a queer icon. Shocked? You really shouldn’t be. Wonder Woman’s sexuality has always been a thing of speculation. Though many think she’s a cis-gender female due mainly to her relationships with Steve Trevor, Batman, and Superman, her background in the all-female Amazon society provided great hints about her sexuality. Recently, several Wonder Woman comics creators confirmed that true to rumors, she’s canonically bisexual.
Art by Marian Hukom
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Most dating apps are only designed for straight, cisgender, White, and non-disabled people. And for apps that are designed for LGBTQ+, many queer people only find profiles with discriminatory languages. There are not enough features that guarantee their safety and privacy. It just shows that in the eyes of many LGBTQ+ people, big dating apps are neglecting them. Despite the efforts of Tinder, another dating app, to be more gender-inclusive, trans users still report getting banned. “Dating apps aren’t even capable of properly accommodating non-binary genders, let alone capturing all the nuance and negotiation that goes into trans attraction/sex/relationships,” reports South China Morning Post.
But what’s the good news here? New dating apps have developed, and they are becoming more inclusive to reflect people’s needs. Here are the best queer dating apps, depending on what you’re looking for:
Her
Our top pick for the best app for lesbians and queer women is Her. One reviewer on the iOs App Store even described it as “the only decent dating app.” Other than that, you can also get involved in LGBTQ+ events and catch up with news. It was named as Datchh back in 2013, then renamed as Her in 2015 to “appear more welcoming to trans and non-binary people.” Available on App Store and Google Play Store.
Scruff
This app was described as “perfect for casual chats with queer men.” It’s also open for all LGBTQ+ community, even people of color. Recently, Scruff also took a stance against racism by making its “ethnicity” field optional. Available on App Store and Google Play Store.
Bumble
Bumble is not only an app for searching for a partner, but an app to find new friends. The app was originally founded as a “feminist” alternative to Tinder, designed to put women in the position of power, according to its founder Whitney Wolfe. Available on App Store and Google Play Store.
LGBTQutie
Launched only in 2018, this app was created because the co-founders saw that most dating apps are only designed for heterosexual relationships, or if they are LGBTQ+ inclusive, they focus on gay men or lesbian women. So they tried to be more inclusive, according to Teen Vogue. The app also provides LGBTQ news and blogs that focus on mental health in relationships. Available on App Store and Google Play Store.
Chappy
As stated on their website, Chappy is “Bumble’s gay dating app.” Chappy also hosted a series of events for Pride Month 2018 to get its name out in the queer community. Plus, the app restricts messaging to matches only, since they want to limit unsolicited nudes that are very common on dating apps. Available on App Store and Google Play Store.
The much-awaitedVictoria’s Secret Fashion Show has just concluded, and though we celebrate some things, like our our very own homegrown talentKelsey Meritt’s first walk on the show, as well as model Harlow Winnie slaying her walk, as a whole, the show remainsproblematic for us. While they manage to cast diverse models, racially speaking, it’s still still veryexclusive. In fact, in a shocking interview withVogue, chief marketing officer Ed Razek of the lingerie manufacturer’s L Brands explained that, aside from VS not considering plus-size models on the show, they also think trans models don’t belong in that runway. “Well, why not? Because the show is a fantasy. It’s a 42-minute entertainment special. That’s what it is. It is the only one of its kind in the world, and any other fashion brand in the world would take it in a minute, including the competitors that are carping at us. And they carp at us because we’re the leader,” he infamously said. Though he has apologized for “coming across as insensitive,” netizens are quick to call out the BS.
Point taken. We too think he said it exactly the way he meant it. Which is unfortunate, because we believe trans models do belong in that show. I mean, just look at these lovely models. We’re damn sure they’d slay in the runway as angels too. To be clear, this is just to make a point, not beg VS to hire them on their next show if they’re really unwilling. Like they said—it’s their loss anyway.
Actress and model Carmen Carrera is known for starring in multiple television series, and for appearing in RuPaul’s Drag Race. Since transitioning, she has appeared in various high-profile fashion shoots. In an interview withTeen Vogue, she stressed the importance of transgender models walking the VSFS: “It’s important to have transgender representation because we represent the forthcoming generation, and their new perception on the standard of beauty—which I believe is being true to yourself, loving yourself and others. It’s also about being more aware, socially, and shedding a light on all marginalized groups. It’s beyond the surface beauty.”
She directly addressed the brand on Instagram too, saying “ If they are ready for a positive change with a big impact, they know where to find me!”
Leyna Bloom
https://www.instagram.com/p/BhEmMSTgB62/
Leyna is thefirst out transgender model of colour in Vogue India. In an interview withMic., she revealed why she’s so determined to succeed. “I represent so many groups of people and communities around the world. Me, I would just be the vessel.” Last April, she took to Twitter to express her desire to be the first trans model of color to walk the VSFS. Thousands of people got behind her cause, and the tweet garnered over 130,000 likes and retweets, and numerous news outlets picked up the story, so we’re sure Victoria’s Secret was aware of her campaign.
In a lengthy Instagram post, she shared her thoughts on statement: “I’m disappointed, because I thought you were the leaders and now I know you’re the problem, and I’m thankful for you for revealing your secret.” She added, “Trans will not support you anymore, trans will not follow you anymore. When the world comes to change and when it comes to embracing that change you will not be part of it. THIS MOMENT CANNOT BE ERASED. We have had ENOUGH @VictoriasSecret You do not represent none of us Women”
Geena Rocero
https://www.instagram.com/p/BpnSdc5lbiX/
Born and raised here in our country,Geenafirst caught the eye of the public when she started joining pageants. She then entered the world of fashion after being discovered by a photographer in the West Village. She has actually modeled for years before she publicly came out as trans during a TED Talk in 2016. Her modeling achiebements include walking for Chromat and Marco Marco, as well as appearing on the cover of Harper’s Bazaar India.
Aside from being a model, She is also recognized as an advocate, writer, and the founder of GenderProud, a global advocacy network which aims to help trans people fight for their legal rights.
Lea is an icon for being considered as thefirst transgender supermodel. Since being discovered by Givenchy designer Riccardo Tisci in 2010 and becoming his muse, she has since appeared in magazines and on runways around the world, including being named as one of the the faces of major beauty brand Redken. You may also recognize her for being featured in the Italian version of Dancing With the Stars in 2013. Regarding diversity in the beauty and fashion industry, sheshares, “We are not all the same; we don’t need to have all the same prototype.” She added, “In beauty, when there is a prototype, you become a slave of this icon, of this canon of beauty. But you need to see inside the person.”
Jari is a fierce trans advocate. She uses her fame to speak about trans issues which you can view on her social media platforms, as well as onTeen Vogue Take. Aside from being a trans-femme actress, she also refers to herself as a curve model and is currently featured in New York City Health’s Living Sure Campaign. Aside from seeing a trans model walk the show, we are all waiting for Victoria’s Secret to be more body-diverse. We’re sure Jari, along with other “curve models” would bring something special to the show.
Art by Marian Hukom
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Those of us who are cisgender may not understand how complex gender identity and gender expression can be, and that’s because we live in a heteronormative culture that says there’s just men and women. In reality, there’s more than that. In the gender spectrum, there are gender identities that are shades of male and female, and gender identities even beyond male and female.
Among these many gender identities is transgender, and it’s an identity that’s (rightfully!) sparked a lot of conversation, especially in light of Caitlyn Jenner’s Vanity Fair cover. However, Caitlyn didn’t go from Bruce to Caitlyn real quick. The transitioning process is one that takes a lot of mental and physical preparation, and it’s a long, long process of trying to be who you really are. Preen got to talk to two transgender people on their experiences.
Gender confusion
Growing up, Janlee Dungca, who works in PR, identified as a gay boy, but she noticed that the way she carried herself at the time was more feminine than other gay boys. During her junior year of college, she took a Psychology class, where she came across the term “transgender.” That was when she realized that she wasn’t a gay man, but a transwoman.
On the other hand, Nick Fernandez, a transman, recalls the exact moment when he felt like something was off with his body. He recalls that when he was six years old, he and his male cousins played basketball, and when they had taken off their shirts, he did, too. At the time, he still had a female body. “My grandfather scolded me, saying [taking off shirts] was not something that girls did. I remember feeling confused because the urge came naturally and I could not understand how ‘unnatural’ it was,” he shares.
He had also spent years of his life identifying as lesbian, thinking that “being a lesbian had something to do with me wanting people to see me as a guy, only to find out that the term ‘lesbian’ is a form of sexual attraction and not an identity.”
There are thousands of transgender people across the world, but what people may not understand is that not all of them necessarily feel like they have to transition from their biological sex to the sex associated with the gender they identify with. However, for Janlee and Nick, that physical transition was important to them.
Transitioning pains
Janlee wanted congruence with how she felt and what she saw when she looked in the mirror. Nick felt the same way. That’s how the transition began.
First, it starts with a lot of research and mental preparation, and then a consultation with a doctor. Both Janlee and Nick were referred to their doctors through transgender friends.
The hormones that Janlee takes, she says, are acquired over-the-counter: the testosterone blockers Spirinolactone and Finasteride, and estrogen supplements Oestradiol. (She recommends the site Transgendercare.com for information on dosage and effects.)
There are also other side effects that come with taking the drug—Janlee reports that she was much more emotional during this time and felt fatigued more easily, but she did not feel the expected bout of depression that other transwomen have felt while taking hormones. She feels fortunate for having a strong support system that help her get through.
On the other hand, Nick says he had a more difficult time looking for ways to legally acquire the drug required—a testosterone injectable—for his Hormone Replacement Therapy. For him, the worst part of taking the hormones was the social adjustment—because his hormones were raging, he was more irritable, which affected his relationship with his partner.
As far as surgeries go, Janlee says that gender reassignment surgery—the surgery that changes your genitalia—is not a priority for her. Nick, on the other hand, has already had a double mastectomy, which he says is the “highlight” of his transition, as his chest was the cause for his body dysphoria.
And because they’re transgender, they deal with new gender roles. Janlee says that she’s more careful now when she’s out. Prior to transitioning, she always felt that being a man meant that no harm could really befall her in public places. But now that she is a woman, she is more cautious of her surroundings—a feeling of fear that every woman in this day and age is familiar with.
For Nick, dealing with legal documents is still a pain. “I have had past experiences where I was denied of services or questioned extensively because of how I look versus what my documents say,” he shares.
No turning back
Now, Janlee and Nick are both well-adjusted, happier than ever, and they only have advice to give for those who are thinking about medically transitioning as well.
Nick admits that, at the beginning of transition, he didn’t realize that the changes would come bit by bit. “Transitioning is a lifetime commitment to the medical and mental process,” he says.
Looking back at her experience, Janlee says that she would’ve appreciated if she learned about the transgender identity earlier than college. It would have saved her a lot of confusion about who she was, and it would make everyone more aware and accepting of the transgender community.
Although the struggle of transitioning is not something that we’re all going to fully understand (especially as cisgender people), becoming someone we’re proud of being is something all humans strive for. Loving who we see looking back at us in the mirror is a goal we all have in common. As an endnote, Nick says, “You do not transition to become who you are; you are already who you are and that is why you transition.”
Art by Dorothy Guya
Here’s a 2020 silver lining: Filipina Mela Habijan was crowned the first-ever Miss Trans Global on Sept. 12. 
