Come June every year, people wait earnestly for the rainbows that capture the zest of Pride Month. Streets and arenas are filled with powerful protests and picturesque parades; and even just for 30 days, the world seems to make time and space for the struggles and successes of the LGBTQIA+ community.
This, however, is not always the case for all queer individuals—especially for the closeted. Year round, they turn to their found spaces to be themselves, freely and unapologetically so. For some, it’s retreating to their own rooms at home. For others, it’s flocking to extravagant nightclubs and brunch spots where anonymity is the name.
For some students who are not out, the University is their sanctuary. The LaSallian talks to Francis Ayala (III, CAM-ADV), Annika* (II, CAM-ENT), and Dawn* (IV) on what inclusive policies and colorful events can mean for the expression and safety of closeted queer individuals.
Spaces that are only mine
Like our fingerprints, no queer experience is identical. While others leave a trail of glitter everywhere they walk, some individuals like Annika and Dawn tiptoe across puddles to conceal their identities. Dawn acknowledges that being closeted “can mean a few different things depending on where or to whom you’re closeted from.” From casual digs to strong religious beliefs against the LGBTQIA+ community, Annika shares that “there aren’t many particular spaces where [they] can feel safe.”
Luckily for both, DLSU has cultivated a culture of inclusivity. Ayala, who was among the project heads for Animo Pride 2024, proudly beams that the school has become an accepting environment, especially considering its tradition and heritage. “[We’re] a Catholic institution that’s this accepting, na meron pa tayong pride events and all that.” While there’s still much to be done, the revised dress code policy and selected gender-neutral bathrooms are major feats for a religion-aligned university in the Philippines.
(We even have pride events and all that.)
These advancements bode well for Lasallians. Dawn, who is currently continuing her studies in the Laguna Campus, recalls attending the Manila Campus-wide Pride March that brought together students and faculty of different sexual orientations, gender identities, and gender expressions (SOGIEs). However, there’s something else she misses: the safe spaces along Taft Ave. She recalls, “Whenever I head into Asterisko [Coffee] and I see the huge pride flag and talk to the baristas, I just feel [so happy].”
Beneath the rainbow
There is no single way to celebrate one’s pride. But in a society that values bold colors and loud voices over sincerity, those who stay closeted often remain misunderstood in the shadows—or even worse, branded as less queer. Closeted experiences differ from person to person. Sometimes, it’s a matter of safety. For Annika, someone who isn’t out is just as valid as a person who is openly queer: “A closeted individual is still queer, just not outwards”.
What seems to be a small misconception quickly reveals itself as a heavy burden. Because for some, it’s not just the fear of being outed that pins oneself down, but also the pressure of being prematurely stereotyped and inaccurately labeled. As Dawn puts it, “[When people find out I’m queer], there are some who treat me differently [and some who enforce] a lot of stereotypes on me that feel very uncomfortable because I don’t really abide by it.”
Echoing these sentiments, Annika also mentions how the portrayal of queer individuals as a punchline in Filipino media only feeds into the hesitation many feel about revealing their true selves. They believe that in the eyes of the unsuspecting Filipino, “[LGBTQIA+] people are still being treated as a joke.” Nevertheless, this shared discomfort rarely gets addressed, especially outside the University.
These struggles give event organizers like Ayala all the more reason to ensure that pride events within the University, and campus culture in general, are able to create safe spaces for everyone—no matter how they express their identity. Even small gestures, like offering privacy stickers or ribbons during public celebrations, become meaningful ways to protect those who aren’t ready to be seen.
In a world quick to celebrate visibility, perhaps the quietest forms of pride are the ones most in need of protection.
In subtle ways
Just as pride is about embracing the daring and dazzling, it is also patient and gentle, unveiling itself in found safe havens. Carving out more of these spaces comes with respecting the choice to stay closeted. “Gusto nilang sumama, pero ayaw makita,” Ayala imparts, emphasizing the importance of keeping these events within arm’s reach for closeted individuals. “There’s this accessible space for them to join in or view [if they want to], and to have this celebration they know is for them.”
(They want to join in, but do not want to be seen.)
Such spaces within the University walls may feel like an affirming refuge, especially for closeted students. “If it’s a safe space within campus, that’s great…but when you walk outside the walls of [the] University, you bring back that shield again,” Ayala highlights, in hopes that DLSU’s inclusivity doesn’t stop at its gates.
Still, empowerment does not always need to come with grand gestures. Annika shares that they feel truly welcomed when spoken to casually, not treated differently because of their SOGIE. Dawn says that small acts, like friends correcting someone who misgenders them or giving thoughtful gifts, make them feel that their identity is seen and valued.
Celebrated—wherever you are
As we champion those who have courageously come out, we must equally uplift those who carry the quiet burden of keeping themselves hidden. “It takes a lot of bravery to keep yourself closeted as well,” Dawn expresses, affirming that they are still worthy celebrants of pride. Annika adds that the act of staying closeted should not be met with shame, but with understanding and support instead: “What should matter most is that you know your identity. You know the people [who support] you.”
While we have these university-wide queer events, they are mere opportunities. As Ayala puts it, “Whatever you feel is right, that’s right. If you choose to be closeted until you’re 60, 70, that’s your choice. But [until then], these spaces and events can help you feel more welcomed and validated to just be who you are.”
*Names with asterisks (*) are pseudonyms.
ERRATUM: June 26, 2025
An earlier version of the article misstated Francis Ayala’s course code as CAM-LGL. It should be CAM-ADV. The publication apologizes for the oversight.
This article was published in The LaSallian‘s June 2025 issue. To read more, visit bit.ly/TLSJune2025.
