Admittedly, as someone entering their 30s this year, I haven’t really thought about prom in years. But over a decade later, on the last day of Pride Month, my partner and I found ourselves walking arm in arm into one. Yet this time things were a little different. Gone were the terror teachers and nuns dead set on shutting down displays of affection that didn’t “leave space for the Holy Spirit.” Gone were the restrictive dress codes that made me squirm as an awkward 15-year-old. Instead, there were girls in suits, boys in gowns, drag queens, tarot readings, and even a tattoo booth. Because this was a Queer Prom, and everyone was free to leave the traditional rules of prom at the door.

For most kids, especially those exposed to Western media, prom is a rite of passage — an epic closer to the final days of your adolescent life. It’s written into some of the most popular teen films of all time, from “Pretty in Pink” to “Mean Girls” to “High School Musical 3: Senior Year” as the most important night of a teen’s life and a signifier of their coming of age.

But for queer kids, prom can be an altogether different experience. It becomes a mortifying ordeal of wanting so desperately to fit in so as not to draw attention but, at the same time, not being able to enjoy this formative experience as your true self.

‘ ‘1’: ‘image’: ‘jcr:d46e4444-94e2-4332-a212-cf9614c7adb8’ ‘imageCaption’: ‘The idea of hosting a Queer Prom had already been brewing since

“The traditional prom experience has often excluded LGBTQIA+ individuals,” says Roanne Carreon, co-founder and president of Queer Safe Spaces, the organization behind the Queer Prom. Queer Safe Spaces is a fairly new nonprofit that works to empower, educate, and support Filipino queer people. It began as a Facebook group of about 500 members called “Queer Safe Spaces (Family RoTin)” — “RoTin” referring to Carreon and her partner Tina Boado, both content creators who rose to fame in 2019 with open and honest vlogs about their lives as a queer couple. Over the next three years, the community blossomed into an online support network for over 17,000 LGBTQIA+ people and allies.

“We were inspired to launch an online community when we realized that there were hardly any resources or role models for the LGBTQIA+ community in the Philippines,” explains Carreon. She attributes the spike in membership to the “series of lockdown measures” imposed by the government in response to the pandemic, which “intensified the pre-existing vulnerabilities of young queers [people] who were stuck in unsafe domestic spaces.”

But the idea of hosting a Queer Prom had already been brewing since early 2020, months before the lockdown began. Carreon says the inspiration came from an “unexpected and powerful moment” in a community meet-up in Iloilo City where over a hundred queer individuals joined in on a spontaneous slow dance. The immense gratitude the attendees felt at being given a safe space to experience such an intimate moment became the catalyst for the Queer Prom.

‘ ’26’: ‘image’: ‘jcr:bba21fc1-5528-4e8e-8209-0ae8cc211a57’ ‘imageCaption’: ‘Between, traditional dress codes (suits for boys, gowns for girls) and strict dating rules (boy/girl pairings only), prom becomes this dizzying cocktail of shame, confusion, and forced conformity for a lot of

Early in the night, host Justine Peña asks the audience, “Who here felt like they couldn’t be their most authentic selves in their high school prom?” Nearly everyone in the room raises their hands. Sadly, this comes as no surprise.

Between, traditional dress codes (suits for boys, gowns for girls) and strict dating rules (boy/girl pairings only), prom becomes this dizzying cocktail of shame, confusion, and forced conformity for a lot of queer kids.

This is because prom’s roots are deeply sexist and heteronormative. The prom we know today took shape in the US between the 1920s and 1950s, as an emerging middle class gained enough capital to emulate the exclusive promenades and debutante balls that were popular among the upper class. These balls existed to formally introduce young girls into society, or, in other words, to marry them off to wealthy husbands.

As Pamela K. Smith writes, prom is a “spectacle of heteronormativity” and a “ritual which legitimates a heteronormative future. It is the equivalent of a blue collar debutante ball and a practice run for a traditional marriage ceremony.” Just consider those archetypal prom moments in the movies — like promposing, picking out a gown and a suit, and getting made up.

“As queer people, even if we had proms in our high school, we didn’t really get to experience it at its core or whatever prom is supposed to be because we’re queer [and] we might get bullied for being who we are,” says content creator Martin, who attended the Queer Prom along with other fellow creators in his network. He says he felt he had to “strategically stay in the closet” back then to avoid being judged or hated by his peers. And while he still had fun with a pre-assigned date (yes, it was a girl), he says deep inside he hoped he could have gone with his guy crush.

‘ ’27’: ‘image’: ‘jcr:5dbb4729-cb29-4208-b008-59f5c0ab338c’ ‘imageCaption’: ‘Organizers deliberately chose not to impose strict dress codes since the goal was to celebrate inclusivity and self-expression regardless

Kuwaii, another content creator who came to the Queer Prom in a floor-length rainbow-colored gown, says that while he had already come out by the time of his senior prom, he had no choice but to wear a suit. “Hindi naman ina-allow ng school namin to wear a gown,” he says.

During my own senior prom, I hadn’t realized yet that I was queer. But looking back, I think I mistook genuine moments of gender dysphoria with what I thought were just normal feelings of angst and anxiety that most teenagers feel. I remember my mom buying me a backless floor-length dress (backless enough for the nuns, at least) and taking me to our village salon to get my hair and makeup done. The elderly woman who ran the store kept calling me “artistahin,” but every time I looked in the mirror I could hardly recognize myself. I felt like the clothes, hair, and makeup were wearing me instead of the other way around. The heels dug into my feet as if to keep me from running away from it all.

When I ask about how the organization approached planning a prom specifically for queer people, Carreon says they deliberately chose not to impose strict dress codes since the goal was to celebrate inclusivity and self-expression regardless of gender.

“As queer people, even if we had proms in our high school, we didn’t really get to experience it at its core or whatever prom is supposed to be because we’re queer [and] we might get bullied for being who we are.”

“Unlike traditional proms, which often adhere to societal norms, the Queer Prom encourages its attendees to embrace their true selves without conforming to heteronormative standards,” says Carreon. “Additionally, the Queer Prom allows its attendees to dance with whomever they want, thus breaking free from the limitations and expectations imposed by traditional proms.”

Finally, in keeping with their goal of creating safe spaces for the community, they implemented a glow-stick bracelet strategy to keep track of attendees who were and weren’t okay with having their pictures taken. “This measure was primarily designed for closeted members of the LGBTQIA+ community.”

With these changes, the Queer Prom felt like a chance at a do-over. A way to take back something that was lost — as we queer people must often do later in our adulthood.

‘ ’28’: ‘image’: ‘jcr:e45499ea-7b0b-4846-b591-5b684f5b3da2’ ‘imageCaption’: ‘With these changes, the Queer Prom felt like a chance at a do-over. A way to take back something that was lost — as we queer people must

“[This event] is extra special to me kasi yung prom na a-attendan ko ngayon, naka-gown na ko. [I’m able to express] who I am,” says Kuwaii. “Ngayon kasi mas masaya. Kasi ito na ako eh. Tapos lahat ng kasama mo, hindi ka nila ijajudge.”

“You know how prom is very quintessentially straight? And there’s a prom king and a prom queen and you come with a date and on and on?” says singer-songwriter Presh. “A queer prom kinda feels like a reclaiming of a childhood [experience] where you weren’t really allowed to bring a same-sex date.”

For Shane, the Queer Prom was an opportunity to surprise their girlfriend of four months with a romantic prom-posal. “I got to ask her through a prom-posal, like the ones you see in American teenage movies. You know the thing in ‘Love, Actually’ with the signs? So, there was a cartolina that said “Prom?” behind me and I held cardboard signs with the lyrics to ‘Finesse’ by Bruno Mars.”

Anakin, Shane’s girlfriend, added how nice it felt to be able to dance openly with her partner on prom night.

Later in the night, during Nica del Rosario’s performance of “Tahanan” couples got on the dance floor for an intimate slow dance. As they swayed to the words “Dito sa ‘king yakap/ ay tahanan ka,” my partner and I looked at each other and, without words, I knew they felt the same thing. It’s not everyday that queer couples can slow dance together in a crowded room and feel true joy — without fear of judgment or reproach. There were no icy stares from classmates or teachers, no fear of what anyone would say once the music dies down and lights come back on. For one brief moment, in this little world, it felt safe, warm, triumphant.

‘ ’29’: ‘image’: ‘jcr:5595c823-f51a-42f8-b5b7-23a51372e12c’ ‘imageCaption’: ‘It’s not everyday that queer couples can slow dance together in a crowded room and feel true joy — without fear of judgment or reproach.

It’s nice to know that as adults, we can create our own safe spaces and change our narrative. That we, as a community, can look back on years of hurt and say, we can do things differently now. Not only that, we can hold space for others. I felt this a lot this Pride Month as I could hardly keep up with all the shows, demonstrations, talks, and exhibits happening at once.

But at the same time, it’s also rather bittersweet. Our Pride movement may be steadily growing, but just hours before the Queer Prom, actress Awra Briguela was arrested outside a bar in Poblacion and a police chief falsely accused Briguela of being violent toward a male patron because she “wanted to see his body”. We still have legislators who believe that the SOGIESC bill disregards Filipino culture and shouldn’t be a priority. And, as Carreon mentioned, many young queer people remain vulnerable in unsafe domestic space.