QUEER awakenings don’t always arrive like lightning. Sometimes they start with a subtle tug, a lingering gaze, a question you don’t yet have the words for. Many queer people grow up in environments that never hand them the language to name who they are. So their first realizations often come with confusion and fear.
But still, they come.
And slowly, through heartbreaks, broadcast teams, Facebook crushes, or lockdown reflections, what once felt unspeakable begins to take shape.
Here are stories of three queer individuals who opened up about how they first realized they weren’t straight, what “Pride” means to them now, and what it means to show up as their full selves, even when the world isn’t always ready.
Keyt (not her real name), she/her, 22, pansexual
Keyt’s story is familiar to many queer women who grew up in spaces that only acknowledged male queerness. She remembers being in Grade 5 when a girl first had a crush on her, but at the time, she didn’t know what to make of it.
“I was still in denial back then,” she says. “Syempre takot pa ako kasi hindi pa open ang tao and widely accepted ang same sex relationships dati, lalo na pag babae.”
Like many queer individuals raised in conservative households, Keyt only saw queerness through a limited lens. “Ang alam ko lang is may gay pero sa mga lalaki kasi may pinsan ako na mga gay rin,” she adds.
It wasn’t until sixth grade, her last year as a student journalist, that things began to click.
“I had a crush sa news anchor namin na babae,” she shares with RepublicAsia. “Part ako ng broadcasting team. Nagseselos ako kasi lalaki gusto niya.” At the same time, another girl started courting her. “But kahit na in-acknowledge ko na yung fact na I’m gay, confused and takot pa rin ako so I rejected her.”
Just like many queer individuals, Keyt’s journey was never linear. Fear and shame complicated what could have been joyful. But by Grade 7, she found the courage to pursue her first relationship with a girl, even if the world wasn’t ready.
“Di ko alam na ganun pala kahigpit and kalupit ang mga tao when it comes to same sex, lalo na pag sa babae,” she recalls. The hardest blow came from home. “Obviously, my mom didn’t accept me except for my father.”
Years passed. No one remembered that she came out. “Akala nila phase lang ng buhay ko yun.”
Now 22, Keyt is still closeted to her parents, but out to her friends and siblings. “I have a partner for a year and a half now,” she shares.
For her, Pride is about shedding fear and choosing joy.
“Pride, to me, is about being able to show up as your full self, without fear, shame, or apology. I used to be scared but I realized I shouldn’t be kasi it’s a celebration.
Pride is also a reminder that this freedom wasn’t always there for everyone, and still isn’t in a lot of places even though same sex relationships is now widely talked by people globally, particularly here in the Philippines.
Of course, for me it is also about honoring those who fought before us, supporting those still struggling now, and making space for every kind of identity and love. It’s joy, resistance, community, and most of all truth. Just being real.
And that deserves to be seen and celebrated.”
Allen, he/they, 20, bisexual
There’s no one way to awaken queerness. Some people know from childhood. For others, it unravels over years. Allen describes his journey as chaotic. “Sobrang gulo ng awakening journey ko, as in,” he says.
He had been in a long-term relationship with a girl when things shifted. “I realized na I swing both ways noong Grade 9, after ng break up namin ng gf ko for three years,” he shares. At first, he chalked it up to confusion. “Syempre, lumaki na ako puro girls nagiging crush ko tapos biglang lalaki na agad?”
The pandemic lockdown gave him time to sit with the unfamiliar feelings. “Natapat pa nga noong lockdown ‘yung awakening ko… kung may COVID baby, COVID gay ata ako.”
With more time alone, Allen began experimenting with how he presented and explored his identity. Like many queer youth, he turned to the internet. “Nagsimula akong kumausap ng mga lalaki sa Facebook at Telegram bilang bahagi ng ‘experiment’ ko,” he says. “At doon ko na-confirm na bi nga ako kasi kinikilig ako sa babae at lalaki.”
For Allen, queerness is not just about attraction, it’s political. His understanding of Pride is steeped in activism.
“Ang Pride ay hindi natatali sa isang selebrasyon lamang. Isa rin itong paggunita at pagkilala sa pakikibaka ng lipunan, partikular ng sektor ng LGBTQ+ community.
Para sa akin, hindi aksidente na pula ang unang kulay ng bahaghari; isa itong simbolo ng pagiging militante ng sangkabaklaan.
Kaya naman ngayong Pride Month, makibaka pa tayo laban sa diskriminasyon at sa patuloy na panawagan para sa espasyo. Kahit malayo na ang narating ng pakikibaka, hindi pa rin ito sapat. Kaya dapat nating ituloy ang laban ng sambayanan at sangkabaklaan, hindi lang tuwing Hunyo, kundi sa bawat araw ng taon.”
Like many young queer people today, Allen’s queerness is not just personal, it’s a call to action. It’s part of how he moves through the world, knowing that being bi isn’t just about attraction, but about standing for something bigger. It’s choosing to be visible, to speak up, and to keep pushing for space, safety, and respect. Pride, for him, is about being real, and fighting so more people can be, too.
Anna, she/her, 25
Anna doesn’t have a specific label for her identity yet, but she knows one thing: she’s drawn to women. And it took heartbreak to help her see that.
In 2022, someone courted her, a lesbian. It was the first time Anna found herself seen in that way. It also became her first heartbreak. The girl eventually chose someone else.
“Pang character development lang ako,” she says, half-joking, half-aching.
And yet, something clicked. Through that pain, she began to understand herself more deeply. “Dahil don, narealize kong hindi ako straight.”
Anna says she no longer finds herself drawn to masculine lesbians. These days, she’s more attracted to feminine women. She’s still figuring it all out, but she’s no longer afraid of not having all the answers.
For her, Pride is not about labels. It’s about dignity.
“Pride is self-respect.”
No Single Path, But a Shared Struggle
Each of these stories is different, just as queerness itself is never one thing.
Some awakenings are slow burns. Some come from pain. Others come from laughter, digital “experiments,” or student journalism crushes. But what ties them together is that moment, however quiet, however loud, when a person realizes there’s something in them worth honoring, even if the world hasn’t caught up yet.
Coming out is never just one moment. It’s a series of choices: to show up, to love honestly, to be real even when it’s hard.
And Pride? It’s all of it. It’s the soft realization and the loud celebration. It’s the politics, the community, and the quiet declarations of self-respect. It’s the refusal to shrink.
Because being queer isn’t just about who you love – it’s about finally loving yourself, out loud.
