At 23, Johan Kyle has already lived through the highs and pressures of early recognition. Once seen as a prodigy in fashion, he now stands as a content creator whose work goes beyond clothes—it tells stories. On TikTok and Instagram, his weekly videos draw thousands in, not just for the looks, but for the narratives stitched into each piece. For Johan, fashion isn’t only about style; it’s about meaning, connection, and finding one’s way back to what truly matters. When you look back at your earliest videos, what do you notice about how much you’ve grown—both as a creator and as an individual? I’ve become more intentional with my work than when I was 14. Sometimes, I wish I hadn’t received all that attention at such a young age, because I was still discovering myself. Now that I’m 23, I can say that I found my way back to fashion, and I’m happy. How do you balance the technical side of content creation—shooting, editing, pacing—with the creative side of design and storytelling? For me, story is always king. Whether you’re shooting on an iPhone or an Arri Alexa, the story has to stand on its own. Of course, I do my best to balance the technical with the creative, but that balance only comes with years of trial and error. There’s no shortcut— it’s like developing your taste.  What’s the most personal story you’ve told through your content so far, and how did your audience respond? The making of my brother’s prom suit was the first time I shared an intimate, personal story. I used to be a snob, always wanting to gatekeep the process, but this story felt too special to keep to myself. To my surprise, it went viral. I realized that people don’t just enjoy the clothes, but also the stories behind them. You post new videos every week. What does your creative process look like from concept to upload? Once I have an idea, I outline a script on my Notes app. From there, I usually spend a day filming and two days editing. I prioritize certain videos based on how timely they feel. Five years from now, what do you want your audience to remember you for? I just hope I’ve piqued someone’s interest in fashion. It’s such a beautiful, magnetic world, and so many miss out simply because they don’t know where to start.  Special Thanks: @janvmayo and @midnightdreamph

In the dark pulse of Manila, a runaway teenager finds himself drifting through unfamiliar streets. What begins as an escape soon becomes an odyssey of love, loss, and survival. This is the world of Some Nights I Feel Like Walking , the long-awaited new film from Filipino director Petersen Vargas —and one of the most talked-about queer films of the year. A Return to Queer Storytelling It’s been nearly a decade since Vargas made waves with 2 Cool 2 Be 4gotten . With Some Nights I Feel Like Walking , he steps back into queer narratives with a story that is raw, haunting, and deeply human. At its heart is a wealthy teenage runaway who joins a group of hustlers on a nocturnal journey across the city, fulfilling the last wish of a fallen friend. The result is a road movie unlike any other: intimate, restless, and alive with the grit of the streets. Global Journey, Local Premiere The film has already carved a path across the international festival circuit, from Tallinn in Estonia to Brazil, Singapore, Indonesia, and South Korea. At Tallinn Black Nights, it even took home the award for Best Score—a testament to the sonic force driving its narrative. Now, after months of global screenings, Some Nights I Feel Like Walking returns to where it belongs. The film premiered in the Philippines during the QCinema RainbowQC Pride Film Festival and is set for a nationwide theatrical release on August 27, 2025 . Rated R-18: Boundaries and Freedom The Movie and Television Review and Classification Board (MTRCB) gave the film an R-18 rating , restricting its audience to adults only. The reasons are clear—mature sexual content, LGBTQ themes, and unflinching portrayals of life at the margins. For Vargas, however, this restriction only underscores the film’s urgency. It is not a story softened for comfort. It is a portrait of survival, desire, and the fragile bonds that keep us human. The Sound of the Streets Music plays an unforgettable role. Siblings Aly and Moe Cabral composed a score that weaves experimental noise, silence, and beats with the rhythm of Manila itself. Budots tracks from DJ Danz and DJ Van Pao crash into scenes alongside the fierce rhymes of trans pinay rapper Pette Shabu . The soundtrack is chaotic, hypnotic, and distinctly Filipino. It’s no surprise the work earned international recognition—Best Score at Tallinn—placing the Cabrals alongside some of today’s most daring film composers. Why This Film Matters Some Nights I Feel Like Walking isn’t just a film about queerness; it’s a film about movement. About searching for home when home feels impossible. About wandering into the night, and the connections found in its shadows. For Filipino cinema, it represents a bolder step into queer storytelling that refuses to dilute itself for mainstream tastes. And for audiences, it’s a chance to witness a director at the height of his craft, returning with a story that is as tender as it is unrelenting. “Some Nights I Feel Like Walking” opens in Philippine theaters on August 27, 2025. Rated R-18.

An intimate portrait of healing and inherited wounds, When It Rained Malunggay Leaves is set to premiere this September at Sine Kabataan 2025, as part of the Pista ng Pelikulang Pilipino lineup. Written and directed by Cedrick Valenzuela, the film stars Gabby Padilla and Tanya Gomez in a quiet, emotionally stirring family drama. The story follows Ariel (Gabby Padilla), who returns home for Undas to reconnect with her mother, Anita (Tanya Gomez), after years of estrangement caused by a painful falling out. As the two confront the silence and distance that have long stood between them, the film unfolds into a gentle but powerful meditation on memory, motherhood, and the longing to heal the ones who once hurt us. “It’s a film about healing from passed on wounds, by whatever means,” shares Cedrick. “When I moved out of my parents’ house, I began to realize how much healing my inner child needed. That realization came with the understanding that my mom needed healing too. She was once a child, a teenager, a young adult in her twenties — but she never had the chance to tend to the wounds passed on to her, because she had to put her life on pause to raise me.” Though Cedrick has been writing and directing short films since 2017 for fun and with friends, When It Rained Malunggay Leaves marks his official directorial debut — a film written in his twenties, made for the big screen, and shaped by the quiet ache of growing up. The film is produced by Cy Igne of Komon Collective, a MAPÚA-based filmmaking group, in collaboration with Tarzeer Pictures, Black Cap Pictures, and TEN17P — the creative forces behind acclaimed works such as Dagitab, Phantosmia, and the short film The River That Never Ends. When It Rained Malunggay Leaves will premiere this September at Shangri-La Plaza in Mandaluyong as part of Sine Kabataan 2025 and the Pista ng Pelikulang Pilipino showcase — offering audiences a tender glimpse into the quiet and complicated process of healing and coming home.

BLNC Facets : Pride in Everyday DJ Better Living PARA Ñ AQUE What is everyday life like as a queer person on your side of the country? DJBL: Luckily, I live somehow near to what I assume is a friendlier nightlife scene, compared to other parts of Metro Manila, even though it’s in a different city. But to assume the whole barangay is a safe space for queer people, is also dishonest. Not all venues host LGBT+ acts or communities, which is ironic because some, if not all, the well-known subgenres of electronic music were made by marginalized people (queer and/or people of color). What would you like Filipinos to know about the LGBTQIA+ community where you are? DJBL: The dance floor should be for anyone to be able to express themselves. We do this by attending the club nights we want to attend, the way we dance, and the music we play as DJs. Let’s be inclusive as much as possible and make space for one another. https://www.instagram.com/belgiangwaffles/ Photographer: Wilmark Jolindon  ( https://www.instagram.com/thewilmark/ )

BLNC Facets : Pride in Everyday Shevonne CEBU What is everyday life like as a queer person on your side of the country? SB: It’s a constant balancing act between different circles. Being queer in Cebu means navigating a world that isn’t always hostile, but rarely truly welcoming either. You learn to read the room quickly. I am reminded of this every so often in public or even at work, where the majority are of the older generation. I’ve controlled the way I walk in front of my family. I do not cut my hair a certain length. I buy pink things, worn skirts, have male celebrity crushes and make it a point my family is well aware of these. At times, I even feel alienated from queer friends and the community that celebrates sex—I’ve felt compelled to be into it too. You learn what parts of yourself are allowed to surface and what’s safer left tucked away. And when you want safe spaces to just be yourself, it isn’t impossible to find in the city, but it takes effort. The spaces exist, but they’re just fewer, more underground, and tight-knit. Still, I remain hopeful it is growing with the recent number of initiatives and events from both local groups and communities that aim to create and nurture such spaces. What would you like Filipinos to know about the LGBTQIA+ community where you are? S: In Cebu, the city and the province are not too far off from each other—and neither are their morals and beliefs. There’s a sense of in-betweenness. It’s not as conservative as the rural provinces but it’s also not as progressive as Manila in terms of visibility and some ordinances. We can only hope for the day when we have equal rights and are recognized on a national level, beyond the current local anti-discrimination ordinances, which are helpful and a significant step forward but can only go so far. You’d find that living queer in Cebu is often about finding your people amidst balancing your identity in spaces that may not fully affirm it yet. Many of us live in quiet resistance. We walk carefully, love cautiously, and dream loudly in private, and hope that, soon, we wouldn’t have to fight so hard just to have safe spaces and to live openly. https://www.instagram.com/icedchiffon/ Photographer: Wilmark Jolindon  ( https://www.instagram.com/thewilmark/ )

BLNC Facets : Pride in Everyday WIBOMIBO BULACAN What is everyday life like as a queer person on your side of the country? W: As a sweet boy from a humble barangay in Bulacan, I can say with honesty that life here still leans toward the more conservative side of the spectrum. While I deeply appreciate the warmth of my community, there are times when I feel the limits of expression pressing in. I often find myself travelling to the City of Quezon, Quezon City, and even Makati, where I can meet my queer friends, share stories, and exist in spaces that feel truly safe, seen, and celebrated. In my everyday life, I do my best to express who I am through my creations—whether it’s inmy artworks, my music, and my NOISE . As a music producer, I’ve come to understand that noise isn’t just sound—it’s resistance, it’s power. It’s a way of claiming space in a world that tries to hide us.NOISE IS POWER. Noise demands to be heard. Through noise, I have found friends, built community, shared joy, anger and sorrow.  It’s through noise that a conversation begins. It’s through noise where I begin existing. Through the noise, I am seen. Through the noise, I am heard womp womp. To noise making and to breaking the world that tries to silence us! What would you like Filipinos to know about the LGBTQIA+ community where you are? W: Bulacan queer art needs to be protected! Protect queer art or something haha. But kidding aside, I think that with time, Bulacan Queer Artists will take over the world, so just watch out, keep your eyes and ears wide open. There are countless queer gems here in Bulacan—brilliant, noisy, and unapologetically themselves. We are here. We are making noise. https://www.instagram.com/wibomibo/

BLNC Facets : Pride in Everyday Lendz Barinque CEBU - DUMAGUETE LB : Iligan City is my hometown. I was born and raised there until I was 15 years old. Growing up, my life revolved around home and school. I wasn't able to accept my sexuality until I was 16 years old, when I moved to Cebu to study and practice filmmaking. It wasn't until then that I became more honest with myself because of the community I found—or perhaps, that found me. It wasn't until then that I felt truly accepted. At the age of 20, I moved to Dumaguete City to pursue an undergraduate degree in Creative Writing from Silliman University. Both Dumaguete and Cebu accepted me for who I am, allowing me to be myself with little to no repercussions. In fact, it was Dumaguete that not only allowed but actively encouraged me to be free—to dress how I want, move how I want, and do what I want. Back in my hometown, it took me a while to find my people. I think it was because growing up there, I had a hard time belonging—especially the "me" that Cebu and Dumaguete had nurtured and protected. Eventually I grew comfortable, but I had to hold back some parts of myself. Back home, I feel like I am only tolerated rather than truly accepted. I am grateful for the people I found there, though. As a 29-year-old filmmaker and writer, I frequently move from one place to another, but these three cities are the places I can call home. They are all very different, and living as a queer person in each of these places presents unique experiences. However, I often find myself treading carefully between the stereotypes of what a gay person is supposed to be and the kind of person I actually am. Even now, there are times when I'm expected to be effeminate and times when I'm expected to be masculine. I like to believe I am both, and I love that about myself. I am grateful to be part of an era where being queer is considerably easier than it used to be, and I thank the people who came before me and fought so that I, and other queer people, could live as comfortably as we do today. https://www.instagram.com/lendzrb/ Photographer: Raphael Jan Ferraris  ( https://www.instagram.com/rcferraris/ )

BLNC Facets : Pride in Everyday Edgy PASIG What is everyday life like as a queer person on your side of the country? E: As a transwoman living in the Philippines, it's never been easy. Sure, people in this age may accept us, but not all. Some may treat and consider seeing us eye to eye as much as they see cis-women, but some have reservations. Progress in this society is still a long way off, but I would put my heart on my sleeves and let my hopeful self believe; that someday, empowerment would overcome my fears of being true to my own skin. That for a woman like me and people like me, consciousness would leave my system and being seen equally would be possible. To not be tainted with any degrading remarks for embracing the woman I've become and still becoming. Hoping that someday we get the equal rights that my brothers and sisters from the LGBTQIA+ community and I deserve. A woman like me can still hope. What would you like Filipinos to know about the LGBTQIA+ community where you are? E: I'll be holding their hands when I say that we're more than just their haircutters in their local salons. We're more than just entertainers at bars or the focal point of every joke or just being seen as entertainers at their favorite comedy bars. That the only fitting way for us to be represented in the media is by being the sass-mouthing best friend of their favorite protagonist in the story.  There's nothing wrong with all that, I just hope people won't box us like we're some kind of afterthought in their back burners. That some of us also want to be and do more and it won't make theirs less. For the same reason we ask for equal rights; it won't make theirs any less. But rather would only make our society more unified and secured. To let everyone have a seat on the table. https://www.instagram.com/edgyteresa/ Photographer: Wilmark Jolindon  ( https://www.instagram.com/thewilmark/ )

BLNC Facets : Pride in Everyday Ida Siasoco MANDALUYONG What is everyday life like as a queer person on your side of the country? IS: I am fortunate enough to be able to express myself the way that I am, freely and confidently. I take that opportunity and privilege and use the platform that I have to nurture the energy around me, spread awareness and messages of inspiration. I'm grateful to be surrounded by a safe space through my friends who inspire me to live and love freely. With them by my side, I know I am loved and I am enough. What would you like Filipinos to know about the LGBTQIA+ community where you are? IS: As queer Filipinos, we've come so far and there is still a long, long way to go. Our pride and battle for equality does not start and end in one month; it's a continuous fight for rights, for freedom, for justice. Pride is not just a celebration but a protest, and we should not stop taking our stand to freely express who we are. https://www.instagram.com/idasiasoco/ Photographer: Wilmark Jolindon  ( https://www.instagram.com/thewilmark/ )

BLNC Facets : Pride in Everyday Jan Paul Martinez BAGUIO What is everyday life like as a queer person on your side of the country? JPM: I was born and raised in a UNESCO Creative City for Crafts and Folk Arts.  Growing up surrounded by chalk art, murals, textiles, and local fashion deeply influenced how I express myself, not just creatively, but also in terms of identity. The city I call home gave me the freedom and space to explore my queerness in meaningful and creative ways. Now that I live in Metro Manila as a fashion designer and educator, my everyday life as a queer person is honestly just “fashion design and fashion education”, and of course, a bit of fun here and there HAHA. Honestly, I love doing it. I love my work. Especially because I’m also surrounded by queerness: some artisans I work with, some of my clients, some co-teachers and co-workers, and some of my students. Especially the students. I have students who are starting out as drag queens, and it always makes me smile whenever they show me clips of their performances, the looks they created themselves, and especially when they ask me and consult with me about their drag outfit designs. These instances in my everyday life as a queer person make me feel the joy of being part of the community. But while I’ve been fortunate to find support and belonging in both my career and personal life, I know that’s not the reality for everyone. There are still people, especially outside these creative spaces, who are deprived of the freedom to express their gender identity and expression because of discrimination and hate. I’ve been lucky to have a loving family and a circle of queer friends who’ve given me strength, courage, and motivation to aim high and achieve my dreams. But we can’t just rely on these, because not everyone has the same support system I do. This is why I believe the government needs to act urgently and pass the SOGIE Equality Bill. This is about human dignity and equal protection for all Filipinos, wherever they are in the country. Support systems should be institutionalized so they can be accessible to all queer people, of any walks in life. What would you like Filipinos to know about the LGBTQIA+ community where you are? JPM: Queer folks are not strangers to Filipino society. In fact, we’ve always been here the whole time. We’re your friends, classmates, co-workers, artists, teachers, and students. We have dreams, we have families, we have struggles, just like everyone else. The LGBTQIA+ community here in the north is full of life and creative fire. Especially in the fashion world, where queer people are really dominating the industry: we’re telling stories, starting trends, and creating space for others. And honestly, that sends such a powerful message to younger queer kids who are dreaming of their place in the world. It shows them that there’s room for them, that they belong. But despite this, the reality is that many LGBTQIA+ Filipinos still live in fear. Fear of being judged, harassed, harmed, and even killed just for being who they are. That’s the part that hurts. Visibility is NOT "safety". And while we’re proud to be seen, we also want to be protected. That’s why the government needs to act NOW. The SOGIE Equality Bill has been delayed for far too long. This is about making sure all Filipinos, queer or not, can live with dignity, safety, and freedom. No one should have to hide who they are or fear for their life just because of their identity. We need real, legal protection, not just in big cities or creative industries, but everywhere in the country. https://www.instagram.com/janpaulmartinez_/ Photographer: Wilmark Jolindon  ( https://www.instagram.com/thewilmark/ )

BLNC Facets : Pride in Everyday Lester Dellosa BICOL What is everyday life like as a queer person on your side of the country? LD: Every day as a Queer Filipino on the autism spectrum feels like living inside a kaleidoscope, each moment bright, vivid, and a little bit unexpected. I’m constantly tuning into every sound, color, and social cue, all while deciding how much of my spontaneous, flamboyant self to share in a straight, neurotypical world. Presenting myself as “normal” when I don’t fit that box feels like a performance; I weigh each word, each gesture, to keep both myself and those around me safe. Literally a talent, letting my queer light shine brilliantly, but not so blinding that it eclipses others. Yet in that balance lies my power, an unapologetically authentic experience that honors every facet of who I am. I live in the coastal city of Legazpi City, Albay, and every time I step out wearing something gay or flamboyant, I immediately feel like a fish out of water. I vividly remember the very first time I walked out wearing a skirt, whispers, sideways glances, and the occasional sly laugh. They'd give me a feeling that I'm a lone sirena on land, and my liberated, queer self was a surprise in a place where tradition runs deep.  Compared to Manila, queer energies pulse through every street corner. Here in the province, that same freedom moves more slowly, but it’s no less powerful. It felt weird being highlighted by my queer choices back then, but as years passed, Legazpi City has grown more tolerant of queer personalities and is slowly progressing. What would you like Filipinos to know about the LGBTQIA+ community where you are? LD: What I’d love every Filipino to know is that queer energies in Bicol are as loving as our sea, yet as fierce and uncontainable as the Mayon Volcano. We’re far from the quiet margins, you’ll catch us dancing at barrio fiestas, wearing rainbow anikaniks to silently banner ourselves, and turning every sidewalk into a runway. So next time you think of LGBTQIA+ Filipinos, know that in Bicol, we don’t just survive, we erupt in color and resilience. https://www.instagram.com/its.lestah/ Photographer: Chinitong Mandaragat  ( https://www.instagram.com/chinitongmandaragat/ )

BLNC Facets : Pride in Everyday Ron Roxas LAGUNA What is everyday life like as a queer person on your side of the country? CC: I’m Ron Roxas, a 23-year-old BS Clothing Technology student and fashion designer from UP Diliman. Growing up queer in the province of Laguna, my safe space lies only in our house, particularly in my room playing dolls with my sisters. This safe space shrunk smaller as I faced homophobia beyond the four corners of our home, when I was teased using “bakla” as some sort of insult by my classmates.  Afraid to be labelled differently, I was forced to conform — “masc”-ing my femininity and keeping my true identity to myself. This gradually changed when I became surrounded by people who made me feel embraced for who I am, like my supportive family and The Haus, a fashion organization I joined in my senior high school. Personally, the university, having a progressive image, serves as a safe space for queer people in contrast to the harsh realities of homophobia and bigotry more commonly faced in the larger society. This enables me to be comfortable to live my truth and freely express my flamboyant self. This further emancipated me in reclaiming my identity I almost once lost. In result, this space also allowed me to foster and enrich my creativity freely through my fashion designs — serving as a healing medium to relive my childhood queerness of playing dress-ups. What would you like Filipinos to know about the LGBTQIA+ community where you are? Firstly, I want people to realize how troubling it is for me to find my safe space miles away from the province where I grew up. I know how times are already changing, especially whenever I go home and I observe lesser glares when they see me wearing skirts and heels as I commute. On the other hand, I do recognize that being able to study in such prestigious university is a privilege and so is having this safe bubble for me as a queer person. I’m lucky, most queer people I know don't have their classrooms as a safeguard from discrimination. Some have it worse where their institutions enable and are perpetrators of hate crime. But we have to understand that such safe space is still a bubble, very much vulnerable, especially when it comes to stepping outside of it and facing the glaring reality we live in. It is necessary for us to expand such safe spaces for queer people everywhere in our country. It is our right to feel like we don’t have to worry about how we dress, act, talk, and how our environment will respond to it. The dangers of homophobia and transphobia is real — trans people are being killed; HIV is being stigmatized and weaponized against queer people; and the list goes on. That’s why we must continue to fight for the passing of the SOGIE Equality Bill, because somewhere out there a young queer person needs this protection — a reminder that the society is capable of loving everyone. https://www.instagram.com/rnrxs/ Photographer: Wilmark Jolindon  ( https://www.instagram.com/thewilmark/ )