Pride After June: Pride is Over. What now?

On June’s misty mornings, a rainbow from above may spellbind a child on the streets, wondering why more people—adults, couples— are looking at it longer than usual, as if they were a kid like him, too.  

“’Di ba may rainbow rin naman n’ong isang buwan?” He might whisper to himself. 

But these people below possess eyes that shimmer more, while their arms extend outward, pointing to something beyond their reach–– symbolic, hysterical, important.  For the past thirty days, the LGBTQIA+ community got the upper hand in public memory: rainbow flags hung from storefronts and government buildings. 

Then, July arrives! Stroll across the streets and observe the ritual conclude: billboards returned to corporate colors, algorithms move to the next top hashtags. 

Pride—once again, is a season, not a sustained act of protest.

This raises a question far larger than one page in the calendar hung on the living room wall: What has the LGBTQIA+ community given to Filipino society that June can never fully contain?

In History and Politics

June was not randomly circled on the calendar to preach love more ardently.  It was a history of police badges exploited for sexuality-based harassment, not a march with empowering chants and shimmering banners. They label it a “riot” because it was messy, horrifying, and non-traditional: the Stonewall Protest in the USA, 1969. 

From that rupture, movements followed. The Philippines embeds legacy in being the first country in Asia to hold the LGBT Pride March on June 26, 1994, dubbed as “Stonewall Manila.” Organized by the Progressive Organization of Gays in the Philippines (PROGAY Philippines) and the Metropolitan Community Church (MCC), it became one of the pioneers of political activism in a country that has not yet even grasped how there is more than kneeling on church pews— just as righteous, just as worthwhile. 

This courage persistently inspires LGBTQIA+ movements up to now—the way grassroot Pilipinos mingle in politics, uplift human rights, and deviate in customs selective on the faces of love.

In Pop Culture

Vice Ganda, comedian and entrepreneur, for example, not only becomes one of the country’s highest taxpayers, but also one of the firmest voices against political anomalies, through shows and concerts that she refuses to be mere entertainment and profit. 

Also, being one of the most prominent representations of gay humor, Vice Ganda, along with the LGBTQIA+ community, ultimately contributes to the emotional resilience of Pilipinos.

In the basics of everyday, we feel nostalgic and relieved from the high school-related videos of Esnyr, we call someone “bakla” or “baks” to express a friendship that you intensely value, we call for the local gay parlorista during prom, weddings, or graduation, we use gay linggo “anet” “opo, ate”, “charot”, when a conversation comes in comfortable, happy, Pinoy. 

Gay humor is the anchor of many uplifting contents–that, even just for a few seconds, make the country think less about the unbearable humidity and the little they have for dinner later; just a few seconds, to allow themselves to sit on the couch and laugh. 

In Beauty Industry 

Just like how we would pause the usual cacophonies of our schedules and gather in the living room to watch Miss Universe, the beauty industry becomes a domain for the LGBTQIA+ community, too. The community serves not only as major supporters downstage or behind the screens, but also as aces or handlers, helping a woman walk with her dream crown on her head. 

Although not noticed by many, the very phenomenal beauty contests that get Pilipinos to raise the Philippine flag with pride, and shout the country’s name with their spirits, become possible through the artistry of people many still struggle to accept. 

And these contributions to the country’s politics, resilience, and pride are commemorated only within 30 days, and then are almost forgotten afterward. Yet, the social impact of the first-ever march lasts through decades; gay humor vivifies casual conversations, pageantries becomes a avenue for year-long advocacy of the hailed queen, and everything else these people’s color paints onto this world.

Because pride is an ongoing work, and not just one event. 

Therefore, when June ends, Pride does not. Pride shall not!  Their legacy deserves to live on through all of us, not just to protest, but because we literally consume their pursuits daily. 

And when we open our eyes to the first of July’s misty morning, the rainbow may scatter less symbolically. However, it still appears after the rainfall, whether anyone, even an innocent child, appreciates it or not—continuing to weave colors through heatwaves –either the country’s humidity or the patience of its countrymen for someone different. 

And perhaps, that says enough about “pride.”