What began as a disguise became Vice Ganda’s most authentic self

In Tutoy, Vice Ganda was in hiding. The youngest in the family, she looked up to two older siblings who were both unapologetically queer, despite their father’s disapproval. Growing up, she felt that her father, Reynaldo Viceral, a barangay kagawad (councilor) in their area, gave Tutoy a more favourable treatment because, unlike the older sons, Tutoy was not seen as gay. “My father was hard on my gay brothers. He was too strict,” Vice Ganda recounts. “I was treated differently. I had more privileges and perks. He was sweeter to me, closer. And I didn’t want to lose that.”

And so in Tutoy, Vice Ganda held herself back from the world, especially at home, where she told no one, not even her two queer brothers Emma and Babot, not her mother Rosario Viceral and her sisters Tina and Marivic. Her secret, she felt, was only safe with her friends.

It might have been why he wasn’t the funniest growing up as Tutoy. It might have been why he was quiet and reserved. It might have been why Vice Ganda would later fall periodically into episodes of depression.

Laughter is the best medicine, so they say, but sometimes the symptoms persist. In 1991, when Vice Ganda was 15, her father was shot to death in front of the family. The following year, in the middle of a fight with her closest friends and what she describes as “my first heartbreak”, she tried to take her life, leaving her family a note, a poem in which she revealed her inner struggle and her secret identity.

It didn’t take that poem, let alone the suicide attempt, for her to receive what she longed for. “We know,” said her family. “You didn’t have to tell us. We have always known.”

So there shone the silver lining. Under the darkest cloud, what she now describes as one of the most difficult challenges she has ever had to face in her life, she came out to her family. Out of that dark night, the secret slipped. By accident, maybe. But there it was—seen, known, named at last. “It was stupid, and it didn’t have to happen. I don’t want to glorify it. I don’t want to condone it. May ibang paraan [there are other ways]. I just felt so alone, but I was never alone after all,” she says.

From that dark episode emerged Vice Ganda, free as a bird, though it would take a few more years before she would take on the name. She would join gay pageants, which she cites as the craziest thing she did as a teenager because, as she puts it, “I was the most chaka [ugly] in our group, but I was the most confident.”

By the late Nineties, she had turned Tutoy into a spectacle, something exaggerated, unapologetic, loud with colour, then took him, or traces of him, to the comedy bars like The Library and Punchline. She wasn’t the funniest, not yet. “I was too busy studying how things were done. I was paying attention to everything,” she explains.

The impression she made on those small stages opened doors to show business. Initially, she only did minor roles until 2009, when she shared the screen with Vilma Santos and John Lloyd Cruz in the film In My Life. Then, on October 24, 2009, It’s Showtime came with her on the roster and at its centre—host, judge, attraction. That noontime slot gave her the name that would stick: Vice Ganda, a beautiful vice.

Fame took her by surprise. On Christmas morning that year, just after Noche Buena and only three months into It’s Showtime, she and her friends went to Star City. “It had become a tradition,” says Vice Ganda. “But that year, I was mobbed. Security had to ask me to leave.” They tucked her briefly into a photo booth before she could be taken out safely. Her friends teased her for ruining the ritual. They never did it again.

“I’m lucky they’re still in my life,” she says. “They’re my support, my comfort. But I miss the things we used to do before I became famous.” Every now and then, they would get together in Spain, Paris or the US, where she would bring them, or lately, on a private island in Coron. “But we miss Boracay,” she says. “We miss Puerto Galera. We miss Star City. We can’t do those things anymore because of me.”

It was no small price to pay, but fame opened up a whole new world for her, a world with openings Tutoy only dreamt of, including her first starring role in 2010 in the remake of Petrang Kabayo and 2011, opposite Derek Ramsay, in the Wenn V Deramas-helmed Praybeyt Benjamin, the first local film to gross PHP 300 million in ticket sales.

Vice Ganda has since made over 20 films, playing the lead in at least 11. She has broken box-office records, including hers, especially with The Super Parental Guardians, which earned PHP 596 million in 2016. Since 2022, she has been the highest-grossing Filipino movie actor of all time, accumulating a total of PHP 4.6 billion in movie earnings.

Her contributions have earned her numerous accolades, such as two Asian Academy Creative Awards, a FAMAS Award, a Guinness World Record, a star on the Eastwood City Walk of Fame, and the distinction of being named one of the Most Trusted Entertainment and Variety Presenters by Reader’s Digest.

Vice Ganda’s comedy draws from authenticity. “This is me. I’m not playing a character. I’m not impersonating anyone,” she explains. “I invite my audience to join me on my life’s journey, through every high and low.”

Vice Ganda has also found happiness in her personal life. On October 19, 2021, shortly before their third anniversary, she and her boyfriend, the actor, model and TV host Ion Perez, held a private commitment ceremony in Las Vegas. What’s the secret to their enduring relationship? “Love,” she says. But what is love? “It’s a conscious choice to understand each other, compromise and be selfless. That’s what binds us.”

How does she handle criticism? “It used to get to me,” she admits. “But now, I’m mature enough to decide for myself. Whatever I’m doing now is the product of my judgment. I’m super self-critical. People say I’m too hard on myself, so I’d rather listen to my inner voice over external noise. I’m a professional. I know what I’m doing. If they get offended, I’ve learnt to say wala akong kebs [I don’t care].”

Does Vice Ganda represent the fulfilment of Tutoy’s every ambition? “My goals keep changing,” she chuckles. “First, it was about earning. I hated having nothing. Even as a kid, I knew I needed to make money.” Interestingly, her second goal, fame, ultimately allowed her to achieve financial success. So, what’s next? “Now, I want to use the talent and platform I have been given for the benefit of other people.”

This reveals a deeper layer to Vice Ganda’s motivations, a desire to put her success to work. “It’s very fulfilling to hear someone tell me how I helped them so much during the pandemic,” she says. “Someone thanked me for being a joy to his mother before she passed away.” 

Vice Ganda’s connection with her audience goes beyond performances. Once, at an international concert, a mother requested Whoops Kirri, a song not on the setlist. Later, during the meet and greet, her child, who had autism, was having a tantrum. Demonstrating her empathy, Vice Ganda sang the song, which calmed the child. “God gave me the opportunity to enter worlds that not everyone can enter. That’s why I can make them happy.”

Vice Ganda’s influence resonates far beyond the entertainment sphere. She advocates for mental health. She talks about therapy like she talks about Vice Cosmetics, her all-inclusive beauty brand. “I see a psychiatrist regularly. I want to make it normal for everyone else to seek therapy,” she says. For the LGBTQ+ community, she has become a key voice, using her platform to fight for equality and acceptance. She speaks for the queer, the quiet, the ones still holding their breath. “We may not achieve our dreams in our lifetime, but at least we are doing something,” she muses. “They will be enjoyed, maybe not by us, but by the next generation.”

She is called an icon, a trailblazer, a gamechanger. She sees herself simply: “I’m an ally. To the LGBTQ+ community, to those who feel alone, to the less fortunate, to the lonely. I’m an ally to every child with a dream. That’s how I wish to be seen. I’m your ally, your friend.”

But what about Tutoy? Would they be friends if he and Vice Ganda met in a parallel universe? 

She gives herself a moment to think. “I believe Tutoy likes watching Vice Ganda, although, like me, he is very critical,” she says. “Vice gives Tutoy a reason to laugh, and that’s what Tutoy needs. Life is hard. He’s struggling. He needs a way to cope. But Vice needs Tutoy too. Tutoy humbles her, grounds her, keeps her true. Vice Ganda is Tutoy’s hero, and Tutoy is Vice Ganda’s inspiration.”

After all, at home, in a favourite house shirt, ragged and torn, frayed and faded, Vice Ganda is still Tutoy.

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