08/07/2025
“Queertopia reminded everyone that even when the world wants q***r people to hide or stay quiet, choosing joy is a way to fight back.”
Thank you for this insightful feature, CommLeague! 🫶🏻🏳️🌈🏳️⚧️
[𝗙𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗘 | 𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗘𝗥𝗧𝗢𝗣𝗜𝗔 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟱] A Kaleidoscope of Color, Identity, and Resistance
In a country where tradition and religion still decides how people should live, embracing a Pride celebration that goes beyond performance becomes a radical act of communication.
Queertopia 2025 lit up the MenDi Complex in Angeles City with music, art, and pride last June 28 — turning it into more than just a venue for celebration but a site of resistance. Organized by the collective June, the event brought together artists, students, vendors, and allies in a community-led movement that reclaimed joy as protest and inclusion as praxis.
As media practitioners, we were offered a real-world application of what theory often tries to teach us: that communication is never neutral. It shapes power, constructs culture, and — at its most powerful — challenges systems that silence.
𝗔 𝗺𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗳𝗲𝗹𝘁 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲
At first glance, Queertopia looked like any other Pride celebration — drag performances lit up the stage, open mic sessions echoed across the venue, and booths spilled over with art, zines, and crafts.
But what made it different wasn’t the spectacle. It was the feeling.
Strangers hugged like old friends. Conversations flowed easily between students, artists, vendors, and allies. For a few hours, the MenDi Complex transformed into something rare: a space where q***r joy wasn’t just allowed, it was protected and celebrated.
“It’s not just fun anymore, it’s important. We use our art to speak,” said a seller from Cozy Girl.
She had initially come to support a friend, but stayed after witnessing how the event gave room for voices often pushed to the margins. Like many others, she realized that visibility wasn’t just about being seen — it was about reclaiming space that had long been taken away.
𝗕𝗲𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗲
At its core, Queertopia was more than a celebration — it was communication at work.
Not in the transactional sense of sending a message from speaker to audience, but in the deeper, cultural sense we study as communication students: as power, as resistance, and as meaning-making.
According to Erron Hernandez, one of the organizers from the collective June, inclusion was never just about optics, it has to go beyond just having q***r faces on stage.
“For us in June Collective, this isn’t just about throwing an event, we think a lot about the impact of media — how LGBTQ+ people are seen by others, and how they learn to see themselves,” said Erron Hernandez, a former communication student and one of Queertopia’s lead organizers.
This philosophy shaped the entire structure of Queertopia. Every performance, every moment on stage, was curated to give q***r people back their narrative.
“We want them to feel like they belong, like they’re empowered. Like they have a community,” Hernandez added.
And in that process, Queertopia spoke power to a truth: that q***r joy is political.
“There are people who don’t want us to be happy. They don’t want us to enjoy ourselves. So when we celebrate who we are, that’s already a protest,” Hernandez emphasized.
In classrooms, students debate how communication theory can translate to real-world change. Queertopia offers a clear answer: when communication is used to uplift, empower, and reframe how people see themselves, it becomes more than a tool — it becomes a weapon against erasure.
𝗝𝗼𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘀
People danced without hesitation. They sang, they laughed, they cried. That was resistance in action.
Queertopia reminded everyone that even when the world wants q***r people to hide or stay quiet, choosing joy is a way to fight back.
Even now, q***r Filipinos still face disinformation, discrimination, and daily microaggressions. Outside Pride, some spaces close their doors again. Some allies go quiet. And visibility, once celebrated, is asked to shrink back.
That’s why Queertopia must not stay a moment—it must become a model. A reminder that inclusivity should not depend on seasonality or spotlight.
So if there’s one thing Queertopia leaves us with, it’s a challenge: will we keep making space—especially when it’s no longer easy, safe, or trendy?
What happens now that the Pride month has ended and the flags are coming down?
That’s when the real work starts. When safe spaces become fewer, when allies grow quiet, and when q***rness is once again made to feel invisible.
Queertopia reminds us not to wait for the next big event. Inclusion should live in our classrooms, student organizations, families, friendships, in every space possible — every single day.
Because behind every rainbow flag waved at Queertopia, there was more than color—there was memory, hope, and a better future.
So if anyone ever asks if Pride is still needed, remember this: Pride is not just a phase. It’s a promise.
And it’s a promise we all have to keep — together.
Feature by Princess Vino and Juliana Denise Gamboa
Photo by June
