Robyn 007, a young ballroom voguer, was feeling ecstatic moments after winning the grand prize in the voguing category, which has the most participants at this year’s Rainbow Ball. Asked about how he managed to sustain his energy until the last battle, Robyn told CNN Philippines Life, “You just feel it. You embody the essence of the ballroom. That’s literally in every category. You have an essence, and you show it at the ball.”
Now in its third iteration, the Rainbow Ball, organized by Xyza Mizrahi, mother of the Philippine chapter of the Iconic House of Mizrahi, is one of the grandest and most anticipated celebrations in the local ballroom scene. This year, the event served as a fundraiser for the Golden Gays, who, in their heydays, were at the frontline of the local drag culture.
READ: An oral history of the Philippine ballroom scene
Ballroom, not to be confused with ballroom dancing, is an LGBTQIA+ subculture pioneered by Black and Latinx queer and trans people in Harlem, New York in the 1960s. Participants “walk” in different categories designed to counter gender constructs and protest erasure against the community. This culture is best depicted in documentary films such as Frank Simon’s “The Queen” (1968) and Jennie Livingston’s “Paris is Burning” (1990), as well as in the wildly-popular FX TV series “Pose.”
In the Philippines, ballroom saw significant growth in 2016 through the efforts led by Mother Xyza, and it has since expanded, with more balls being held, more houses established, and more initiatives and opportunities organized for the community, the Rainbow Ball included. “The Philippine ballroom [scene] is burning,” said Jose De La Blanca, Asia father of the House of De La Blanca, one of the show’s judges.
This year’s Rainbow Ball featured 16 categories, ranging from face, to body, to vogue, to runway, and to so many categories of defiance. Everyone came in various threads and dresses — all stunning in their own little ways — ready to perform, compete, and own the runway, armed with nothing but realness. Crowd chants and applause inundated the event hall. That night, there were no rules to follow. There were no prying eyes. And for a brief, transitory moment, anything was simply possible.
‘ ’11’: ‘image’: ‘jcr:85f1e6d6-c8f5-4c33-b2bc-399df7e32f7e’ ‘imageCaption’: ‘Mother Xyza Mizrahi performing. Photo by CHRISTOPHER SY/Courtesy
And despite the Western roots of ballroom culture, members of the local scene, while still honoring its genesis, have been shaping the art form to become our own. “There are unique categories that deviate from the original categories of ballroom back in the day,” said Robyn. This impulse to localize the art form was evident across the categories, incorporating themes like “Encantadia” and “Zsazsa Zaturnnah,” as well as iconic Pinoy music, including Aegis’ “Basang-Basa sa Ulan,” Kamikazee’s “Narda,” and Jolina Magdangal’s “Chuva Choo Choo.” Even popular Filipino nursery rhymes “Tatlong Bibe” and “Leron Leron Sinta” were satirized at the ball.
But way before ballroom became a term locally, according to Robyn citing Mother Xyza, the existence of barangay gay pageants already mirrored the essence of the art form. One could consider the pageants as a form of realness itself, the swimsuit competition as the body category, and the long gown portion as the best dressed category, said Mother Xyza in a previous interview with CNN Philippines Life.
Jojo Go, a cis woman ally who won the grand prize in the Women’s Face category, also noted this social and cultural context in the Philippine ballroom scene. “When you ask me if we are the same as New York, we’re really not. ‘Yung laban natin dito as a Filipino, identifying in any gender, is iba sa kanila. I believe we are creative, we do things our own way, and we show up. Yes, we are third world. That’s why ‘yung laban is deep-rooted.”
“If you don’t buy a ticket or dress up, it’s okay,” added Jojo. “You have your own way to support, and let us see that, let us see more of that support. May pinaglalaban ang mga minamahal natin. After this batch, there’ s gonna be something else, so it’s just a permeation of support, of love.”
’27’: ‘contentWidth’: ‘100%’ ’embedCode’: ‘
Similar to Pride parades, ballroom culture is a protest as much as it is a celebration. Ballroom not only becomes one of the few spaces for us queer and trans people to be our authentic selves but also a way to stake the rights that we have long been fighting for, especially now that the passage of the SOGIE Equality Bill is back to square one, while LGBTQIA+ lives remain in peril.
“Ballroom is definitely a platform for us to carve out for trans women and queer people, especially for young trans folks, because there’s so much rhetoric all across the globe,” said Bhenji Juicy Couture Slé, legendary mother of the Australia-based House of Juicy-Slé, who was also one of the judges at the ball. “I feel like ballroom has a way of bringing in those queer kids and celebrating them because we won’t get celebrated elsewhere. All of the categories, all of the ideas of houses and being in a home, become like a safety net for queer people, so that they can look forward to something.”
'28': 'image': 'jcr:bf3af5dd-ecff-4bfc-8137-c9bcdbd17289' 'imageCaption': 'Bhenji Juicy Couture Slé. Photo by CHRISTOPHER SY/Courtesy
When asked about how she envisions the local ballroom community in the coming years, Mother Bhenji said: “I hope that there will be more young trans women in the spaces. I hope that queer people feel like they can be safe to come here. I hope that it keeps on experimenting and pushing the boundaries of queer spaces.”