11/06/2026
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ | Pride Month
Every June, the world dresses itself in our colors.
Fifty-seven years have slipped by since the Stonewall Riots of June 1969. Thirty-two years since the first Pride March in the Philippines. Every year since then, June becomes ours for thirty days. And for those thirty days, q***rness becomes visible enough to be celebrated, photographed, marketed, and consumed.
Within the same fleeting month, rainbow banners are unrolled across storefront windows, corporate logos get a fresh coat of paint, and brands roll out carefully curated slogans, hashtags, and exclaim their solidarity with their own flair. A flag goes up in celebration one day, then it gets folded away without consequence the next. Every June, these flags appear like promises stitched into the skyline. But despite the spectacle, a promise is not the same thing as justice, and recognition is not the same thing as freedom.
In the Philippines, this facade feels especially hollow. We march down avenues lined with corporate banners, yet outside those commercial zones, the SOGIE Equality Bill has languished in the halls of the Philippine Congress for over twenty-four years, which makes it one of the longest-pending pieces of legislation in our history. It is a sobering reminder that a state can comfortably applaud our creative labour and market our culture, while systematically denying our basic human rights on the Senate floor.
We forget that when a handful of brave q***r Filipinos took to the streets of Quezon City in 1994, their voices carried a joint cry by protesting not just against homophobia, but also against the crushing weight of Value-Added Tax (VAT) and oil price hikes on their everyday lives. From its very inception, Philippine Pride knew that a q***r wallet bleeds the same as any other.
When Pride Month is reduced to a page on a calendar, we forget that this movement emerged from resistance and was never for visibility alone. Rather, it has always been a fight against bigotry, systemic oppression, and apathyโthose enduring forces that decide whose lives deserve dignity and whose lives can be rendered invisible.
The reality is even starker outside the parade lines and festive colours. There, too, are q***r people in Palestine, Sudan, Congo, Afghanistan, and in countless places where survival itself has become precarious. Their lives are often treated as footnotes to larger political conversations, as though q***rness can somehow be separated from war, displacement, occupation, poverty, or state violence.
Yet oppression has never respected such boundaries: a bomb does not distinguish between identities; hunger does not pause to ask whom one loves; and the loss of a home does not become less devastating because the person displaced happens to be q***r.
To talk about Pride while turning a blind eye to these realities is to mistake representation for liberation. The rainbow was never meant to be a decoration, nor was it ever intended to become a corporate accessory or a seasonal costume. In fact, it emerged from a demand far more radical than just inclusion into the world as it exists. It emerged from a burning belief, and hope, that another world was possibleโone in which freedom would not be rationed out by wealth, nationality, race, gender, or sexuality.
๐ฃ๐ฅ๐๐๐, at its most meaningful, is born from unrest, as it is the stubborn refusal to make peace with injustice or to settle for a world where freedom belongs only to a fortunate few. If our solidarity stops at our own borders, that is not liberation at all.
Pride is also not just the liberation of the LGBTQIA+ community alone. At its core, it is a protest meant to challenge the systems that oppress us. ๐๐ ๐ถ๐, ๐ฎ๐ป๐ฑ ๐ต๐ฎ๐ ๐ฎ๐น๐๐ฎ๐๐ ๐ฏ๐ฒ๐ฒ๐ป, ๐ฎ๐ฏ๐ผ๐๐ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐ฐ๐ผ๐น๐น๐ฒ๐ฐ๐๐ถ๐๐ฒ ๐น๐ถ๐ฏ๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ฎ๐๐ถ๐ผ๐ป ๐ผ๐ณ ๐ฎ๐น๐น.
โThere is no such thing as a single-issue struggle because we do not live single-issue lives.โ
โ Audre Lorde, Black q***r feminist icon, poet, and civil rights activist
Written by: Ellione Bergola
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