Philippine drag was once confined to the dim glow of underground sanctuaries, where it existed defiantly against the norm. Now, in the exceptional wake of competitive reality shows like Drag Race Philippines, drag has burst through the tinsel curtain as a mainstream cultural phenomenon celebrated for its sharp wit, fierce advocacy, and unapologetic self-expression.
Yet even as the spotlight gleams on international stars, local queens continue to shine in the shadows—stitching together personas that transform cramped bars into spaces of celebration. The LaSallian takes a moment with these neighborhood icons to read and revel in the local drag scene, untucking the joys and challenges the larger queer community continues to face today.
Dragging boundaries
For many queens navigating the Philippines’ conservative culture, drag is not a mask to hide behind, but an unveiling of their truest selves. Aurora Boulevard (Grade 12, STEM), co-founder of Drag Avenue—a collective of local drag artists—recalls how she was vilified online for hosting last year’s Animo Pride Opening Ceremony, yet insists, “I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for Aurora, if hindi ko nahanap si Aurora.”
(If I didn’t find Aurora.)
Drag is Aurora’s refuge from the “harsh realities” of the real world. Her words echo the resilience of countless queer performers who take the stage despite ridicule and accusations of deviance. For the true allure of drag is its power to reinvigorate, reclaim, and repaint existence in brighter, bolder colors.
That same power goes beyond survival and spectacle, confronting the rigid notion of identity. For Andro Jenny, drag challenges the exacting boundaries of gender. Through her craft, she explored a deeper understanding of who she is, explaining that “I realized that I really wanted the best of both worlds: masculinity and femininity.”
Drag also flourishes as a collaborative canvas for artistry. Many queens rely on self-made and borrowed garments shared across the community. Benildean Fashion Design and Merchandising student Bella Harlow’s drag persona is a supermodel that is “very pretty, very poised, and, of course, always serves fashion.” Her looks incorporate pieces sewn by herself or her peers. In this way, her drag is a gallery of living, wearable art.
Above all, drag is a platform for advocacy—a channel through which artists broadcast their truths. For Andro Jenny, performing drag is inseparable from purpose, particularly in championing important social issues such as SOGIESC awareness. “I really wanted it na ito yung advocacy ko, ito ‘yung message ko while performing this.”
(I really wanted it to be my advocacy; this is my message while performing.)
She draws strength from the solidarity of Harong Queens, a Quezon City-based initiative under the Human Rights and People Empowerment Center. Together, they stage politically expressive performances that move audiences toward change, challenging discrimination with flair.
Behind the stage door
With drag in vogue, various Drag Race competitors have transitioned seamlessly from screen to stage, translating TV trajectories into real-life success. However, this has also heightened competition in the overall scene. As clubs seek recognizable names, emerging queens must rise higher to meet their expectations.
Andro Jenny recalls the ease of booking gigs before drag’s surge in popularity. Now, without the right connections, queens face the cutthroat non-commitment of venues that prioritize more established figures. “So [they have] somehow lost the authenticity to hire local queens like us,” she laments.
Such bias is blatant, even or especially when bars do hire local queens. Andro Jenny recounts experiences with organizers who neglect local queens’ gig needs in favor of more prominent acts. ”It’s a challenge because the perception is that it’s the mainstream queens who should be prioritized. And [we smaller] queens don’t receive that same kind of treatment,” she says in Filipino.
From meticulously designed looks to physically intensive dance routines, drag’s glamorous artistry is fashioned from painstaking labor that is often undervalued—particularly by the very establishments that reap the largest rewards from it. Drag artists pour countless resources into their craft just to receive poor amenities, dismissive treatment, and, worst of all, concerningly meager payment.
These challenges further contribute to the high cost and unsustainability of drag. Without securing a home bar or additional sources of income, more often than not, “hindi ka mabubuhay sa drag,” Andro Jenny gently but firmly reminds.
(You will not survive solely with drag.)
Still, in the face of this tough reality, Aurora asserts, “A lot of people do drag, not for the money, not for the fame, but for the love of drag.” Drag is not just a labor of unrelenting toil. It is a labor of love, cobbled together by queens’ passion for the artistry, the culture, and for each other.
A shared spotlight
From lending garments to building safe spaces, queer kinship kindles the bonds through which drag artists endure material and social hardship. For Aurora, her disappointment stemmed not only from the orchestration of exploitation, but from the fact that some of those behind it were also part of the LGBTQ+ community. “Kung sa totoo lang, it’s really sad [that] kapwa sister mo or kapamilya mo pa’ yung gaganon sa’yo.”
(It’s really sad [that] it is your own fellow community who will treat you like that.)
This resolve eventually drove her to establish Drag Avenue. More than a platform for uplifting baby queens and properly compensating them, Drag Avenue is a family that supports one another. As member Bella Harlow shares, queens are pushed to greater heights and to “flourish into the drag queens” they “want to become.”
Beyond artistic growth and self-development, drag families help navigate drag’s backstage burdens. Andro Jenny stresses the importance of finding one’s support system. As a network of artists built on shared activism, Harong Queens also serve as advocates for each other. “We really value sisterhood,” she explains.
In these havens of solace and solidarity, once-isolated queer voices are sewn together from each unique seam that transforms fabric into family. Drag stands as a testament that beyond the limelight and within a largely intolerant culture, queerness survives and thrives through found family—one that saves and sustains you.
This article was published inThe LaSallian‘s January 2026 issue. To read more, visit bit.ly/TLSJan2026.
