Gay culture in the Philippines is changing fast. What used to be just entertainment is now a way to tell stories and celebrate identities. From powerful drag acts on stage to viral TikTok skits, queerness is being shared and lived openly, showing how deeply it has been woven in today’s culture.

And despite what conservative groups say, more young Filipinos are comfortable expressing who they are. What was once deemed nakakadiri (repulsive) is becoming normal, even celebrated in an inclusive understanding of queerness.

A huge part of this shift comes from drag. Marina Summers, one of the biggest Filipino drag stars today, helped bring queer Filipino culture to the world stage. From the reality TV series “Drag Den Philippines” to “Drag Race UK vs. The World,” she has made her mark with killer lip-syncs, bombshell looks, and a bold, proudly-Filipino identity.

Summers’ entrance look with SB19’s “Watawat” turned heads instantly, and her song “AMAFILIPINA” becoming the opener of Miss Universe Philippines 2024 shows just how far her influence reaches. Today, drag isn’t just a form of entertainment. It’s cultural, inherently political — and loudly Filipino.

Progress is progress

Gen Z Filipinos are gradually reclaiming queerness by embracing their identities unapologetically and blending these into mainstream culture. It is evident in social media, memes, drag, fashion, and content on LGBTQIA+ history. It has turned marginalized identities into celebrated culture.

Although visibility has improved, much of queer representation today still coexists with heteronormativity. But it is still framed within “acceptable” narratives and constraints. Still, progress is progress, and every step forward becomes a doorway toward fuller acceptance. In fact, kabaklaan or gayness is now openly celebrated in some places in the Philippines, even by people outside the LGBTQIA+ community.

But this raises the real question: What does it actually mean to be bakla?

The terms bakla, bayot, bading and many others are often used jokingly and endearingly among friends. But these can still carry derogatory connotations when used by outsiders. 

Long before these words became insults, early Filipino communities saw gender as fluid. Even bakla originally came from an emotion, as in “Nabakla ako,” meaning “I was taken aback.” Its link to queer identity only developed later under Western ideas.

Filing system

In the West, queerness often turns into a filing system of labels and categories. Even queer movies fall into it. “Call Me By Your Name” is a classic example — yes, it’s a queer love story, but it still uses a very heteronormative setup. It’s just gay in context.

The LGBTQIA+ labels grew from that concept, and sometimes it makes people feel pressured to figure out exactly “what” they are. Ano ba ako? Saan ba ako babagay? (What am I? Where do I stand?) As if you need a perfect label just to exist. Sure, labels can help people feel seen and connected. But they can also box people in. Terms like “twink,” or “lipstick lesbian” come with certain looks or behaviors people feel expected to match.

Even in the Philippines, queer spaces aren’t completely free from judgment. People who look polished and pretty, like Marina Summers or Minty Fresh, get praised. But someone like Pura Luka Vega, who doesn’t fit that standard, gets called out fast. You still hear things like “Lalaki ka pa rin!” (You’re still a man!), showing how stuck gender norms are, even in spaces meant to be inclusive.

Precolonial Philippines

Being bakla isn’t just a label but a culture and history that precede Western ideas. It’s about embracing the fluid, lived experience of gender and sexuality that our roots knew.

Before the Philippines ever learned the strict babae vs lalaki binary, our ancestors already lived with a fluid, meaningful gender as part of their everyday life. The babaylan or katalonan, spiritual leaders and powerful shamans, moved through gender roles with ease. Some of them were born male but chose to live as women, with no one finding it unusual. To them, it was simply a part of their community. It was just another way of being a Filipino.

The Boxer Codex shows early communities decked out in gold, patterned fabrics, embroidered wraps, and tattoos; even men wore layers of jewelry and ornate clothing. They wear what we call soft masculinity now. That love for style, may it be accessories or clothes, has always been a part of being Filipino.

Even linguistics shows this confidence, with precolonial communities using gender-neutral language, like siya or sila, reflecting a nation where identity was not boxed in and people could express themselves freely.

Colonization tried to overwrite our culture. It pushed strict gender roles and convinced us that a heteronormative society was the “only” proper Filipino way. A lot of Filipinos grew up thinking that was our culture.

Homecoming 

So when Gen Z plays with gender, claims precolonial culture, and breaks binaries, it’s not some trend — it’s a homecoming. Like SOGIE specialist Brian Baretto said, “Local is where the power is.” This generation isn’t making something new; they’re bringing back what was ours all along.

They’re remembering a history that colonization tried to bury but never fully erased.

While many Gen Z Filipinos are reclaiming and redefining their identities, a lot of them are still caught in Western values — as seen at home, in school, and especially in church. Yes, we were colonized, but Filipinos somehow learned to live in the middle. Even with strong patriarchal influences, our culture remains largely matriarchal. There’s always been this push-and-pull between what was taught to us and what was originally ours.

So how do we walk away from colonial ideas and carve out a path that feels true to us?

At this point, colonization is already part of who we are as Filipinos. We can’t erase it. But knowing our precolonial history gives us something important—a starting point. It is a doorway, and how we use this knowledge is our choice. Finding a middle ground doesn’t mean rejecting everything or going back in time. It means figuring out what actually aligns with us, what feels genuine, and what helps us move forward without losing sight of our roots.

As Marina Summers said, “Ang sarap maging bakla” (It’s delightful to be queer). And really, it is.

Today, bakla isn’t just a label; it’s about gradually reclaiming a culture and history that have always been ours. It’s about expressing yourself, and proudly living your queerness.

For Gen Z Filipinos, queerness isn’t something to hide. It’s something to live, celebrate, and pass on. CS

Laja Ywayan S. Gawilan and Maria Gazela Antonette Remon are both completing a bachelor’s degree in international studies (majoring in global development and gender studies) at Miriam College in Quezon City.

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