Designing safer spaces: glimpses of LGBTQ+ nightlife in the Philippines

Kat De Jesus has been a DJ since 2011, following a career as a drummer. She recalls rotating her class schedule around her sets. “Back then, few venues catered to the queer community. We usually had ‘pocket events’ once a month or every few months,” she says. “Now, there is a wide range of groups that cater to those events.” 

One such group is Church, which started as a party held on Sundays at Apotheka, a bar in Poblacion. Due to its growing popularity, the parties have since been moved to Saturdays.

Co-founders Xtina Superstar and Paulo Castro hosted parties from the early 2010s, protesting against establishments that denied them access due to their gender identities and expressions. “At that time, that type of discrimination was so normalised that people like us who stood up to it were often seen as troublemakers or freaks,” says Castro. “We created ‘safe spaces’ for people like us when the term didn’t even exist. We didn’t want dress codes, either, which are the most baduy (lame) concept in life!” 

Xtina Superstar grew up in a conservative Catholic school, recalling such rules as keeping one’s hair a certain length or not being allowed to wear certain shoes or bags. “When I went to my first FLUXXE party in the early 2000s [an iconic queer underground party] I immediately felt at home,” she says. “There was no judgment.”

Paulo Castro, a co-founder and promoter of Church, echoes her sentiments. “I was active in church, starring in school and church choirs,” he shares. “As I started growing up effeminate and gay, the religion that used to give me comfort turned into the first weapon used against who I was. Suddenly, it felt stifling and hateful.” 

For Church’s co-founder and DJ Jer Dee, “It took me a while to break free from that prejudice and fully accept myself. I found another form of Church in my adulthood through congregating on the dance floor, dancing and singing our hearts out. I will forever cherish those later years of my young adulthood because being in those spaces helped shape me into who I am today.”

Another fixture of queer nightlife is Elephant, a queer rave collective that happened every Thursday at XX:XX. “At the time, you’d imagine clubs focused on mainstream music. I was looking for a party that helped me discover new music and that was more community-driven,” says DJ Javier Pimentel. “Everyone knew each other, but they were still incredibly welcoming.” As people could not attend physical sets, they also enjoyed recorded performances from the safety of their homes. 

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At this time, artist and performer Edgy Teresa joined Club Euphoria, which originally hosted parties out of Hoesik Bar in Poblacion. She joined in 2020 as a creative director for online events like drag shows and listening parties. Now, the team is returning to a more project-based approach as they transition out of events in Hoesik. 

Edgy Teresa takes an even more subversive, distinct approach to curation. “When I step on the deck and play my tracks, I can take a very gritty, eerie direction,” she says. “Still, that’s part of being queer. It’s not just the colourful side of things, but it can also feature angry, hard-dropping beats.” 

Her sets are not for everyone; that is precisely the point. “The first few tracks I play can either clear a room or pique someone’s interest. I try to magnetise the right audiences who are not afraid of uncovering their subconscious experiences,” she says. “Queerness subverts societal standards, and I encourage my audience not to shy away from expressing their most authentic selves.”

This shift towards more diverse sets is an exploration that DJs like Javier Pimentel embrace.  Post-pandemic, “there is a connotation that a queer DJ will only play bubblegum pop,” says Edgy, which Pimentel agrees with. “But just because a song is slow doesn’t mean the energy is good,” Pimentel says. “BPM doesn’t necessarily determine the crowd’s energy levels.” 

As the Internet has evolved, millennials and Gen Z have carved out a space for greater self-expression and identities that traverse the spectrum. Now, queer nightlife is not limited to raves and disco. There are event organisers like the Ámame team, whose events feel more like lounges or house parties. At the centre of each gathering is a celebration of sapphic women, from bisexuals and transmascs to nonbinary femmes and more. 

Ámame’s director and head of strategy, Jec Sarabia, wanted a space catered to the experiences of queer women. “For many sapphics, this is their first time entering a venue intentionally created for them,” she says. As such, they hire sapphic artists and DJs to improve sapphic representation in queer nightlife. Still, they maintain a soothing, safe environment for all attendees. “Fun doesn’t have to be loud or chaotic; sometimes the most healing nights come from quiet connections,” says Sarabia. 

Co-founder and architect La Diaz is amazed by how Ámame has nourished a diverse community. “We’ve heard it all: women who finally found their barkada (friend group), others who found the courage to be themselves for the first time, and more than a few who found love,” she enthuses. “But not everyone comes in looking for the same thing, which pushes us to create more varied experiences within the space.”

Currently, Ámame is taking on a new form: grounded in sapphic culture while expanding its reach. Now, it has become a speakeasy bar and events space for queer people and allies.

Alongside sapphic communities, the trans community is an essential component of the queer nightlife experience. For groups like Church, co-founder Xtina Superstar says, “I don’t want the younger generation of trans people to go through the same harm we experienced. Part of the team’s efforts to improve trans representation include hosting queer and trans DJs at their parties, who play progressive house, techno and disco music. 

Last January, they also collaborated with the trans health organisation TRANScend by LoveYourself. A special booth outside Apotheka in Poblacion, a part of Makati City in Manila that’s known for its thriving nightlife scene, gave trans people free HRT consultations, HIV testing and free PREP refills. 

The conversation around making trans healthcare available is one puzzle piece fits into the larger discussion of how to make the queer community more accessible. “There have been a lot of debates about ticket prices–some people think they should be less expensive,” shares Pimentel. “But it’s pricey to book DJs, rent a venue and sound system, and more.” Still, some event organisers offer community access, sharing free or discounted tickets with attendees who need them. 

Although queer nightlife is flourishing, these DJs think there are still many opportunities to strengthen and mobilise the community. “We need to be more intertwined with each other so we can have even bigger events and be more united,” says DJ Kat De Jesus. 

Edgy Teresa offers an essential question for both queer businesses and creatives to explore. “Is the event for you to earn money, to follow a trend, or because you truly want to enrich the culture?” Having a clear understanding of the event’s goals ensures queer performers receive the compensation and credit they deserve.

A recurring theme on the queer nightlife scene is a push for genuine community-building: one that sets proper boundaries for attendees while allowing for unfettered self-expression. “Be carefree, but not reckless,” Edgy Teresa urges. This is particularly interesting in the context of Church’s parties, which directly confront the restraints of religion with a transcendent ecstasy of their own making. “Religion is all about rules; we celebrate through music and dance,” says Castro. “There are no rules in this spiritual enlightenment: here, you can feel free, at peace and one with everyone around you.” 

Still, it is important to define what community means, refining the expectations for each party. Edgy Teresa emphasises a need to reinforce the essence of safety. “Call out and ask for accountability from the people who disrupt the culture and creative freedom of the people in the community.” 

Javier Pimentel expresses his agreement, especially concerning cisgender allies entering the space. “While we invite you into our space, it’s still focused on our experiences and our community,” he says. “It’s not a space for cis people to enter and judge; still, we want to welcome everyone as long as they respect the rules and treat everyone with respect.” 

As organisers of queer nightlife, performers like Edgy Teresa and the Church team feel the responsibility towards up-and-coming nightlife participants. “We want our kids to leave feeling loved and empowered. I’m proud to say our events have raised many of today’s queer superstars, thought leaders and decision-makers,” says Paulo Castro. 

It can feel intimidating for young, queer people to join the scene; but that is exactly the feeling such organisers want them to push through. Waiting on the other side is a vibrant, empowering opportunity for a deeper connection with others and oneself. 

“It’s easy to feel impostor syndrome–that gets the best of everyone,” says Edgy Teresa. “But at the same time, no one’s going to believe in what you’re doing unless you do it first.” Through her work with Club Euphoria, she opens the platform to up-and-coming artists. “It’s okay to start anywhere, but it’s important to be discerning about the communities you join.” 

As time passes, the organisers of events and the collectives that bring them to life will change. Still, the commitment to designing spaces grounded in inclusivity and grace will remain. “The best parties are the ones that fundamentally changed me for the better, that reinforced the sense of community,” says Dee. 

No matter what happens, these collectives will be remembered as places for finding one’s chosen family–and for coming home to oneself, time and again. “I hope to connect with more thought leaders, artists and warriors,” muses Paulo Castro. “And I hope when they think of us in the future, they think of love.” 

On the surface, these parties are a refuge from the responsibilities of daily life. But look deeper: these gatherings remind us of how all-encompassing queerness truly is. Far from being limited to rooms with strobe lights and coloured fog, queerness imbues everyday moments with joy and curiosity. 

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