How Manila Raves Become a Safe Space for Queer Communities

Between moving lights, sound, and technicolor, photographer Gab Villareal captures moments of expression and freedom.

After three years of the pandemic, Gabriel Villareal felt like he could breathe again. As lockdown restrictions eased, he, like others, found himself in a different scene. After a period spent behind the same four walls, he immersed himself in Metro Manila’s nightlife crowds: loud, expressive, and unapologetically real. “Those nights dancing together, finally hearing music loud again, were some of the best experiences that I’ve had,” he shares, recalling his early rave experiences. “That joy, that release, made me fall in love with the scene.”

As he captured moments underneath the moving lights, he observed moments that showed care on the dance floor: strangers making room without being asked, reaching out mid-set to hold hands for a second, waiting for each other after the lights came on, and passing compliments that stayed with them for days. “You could feel this distinct Filipino tenderness,” Villareal says. “There’s so much emotion in the way we show up for each other, in the way we move, celebrate, or even fall apart. It’s not always polished or perfect, but it’s honest.”

“It’s unadulterated freedom,” describes Jem Capeding, one of Danza Organika’s organizers. Manila’s queer community, he shares, contributes to this feeling of freedom. “Raves are really one of the few chances for most to exist in accordance with how they truly feel, so they go all out when they’re there,” he says. “I think that feeling of freedom also inspires the straight ones to do the same in their own way. In that sense, nakakahawa nga maging bading (being gay is contagious).”

As an organizer, Elephant Party’s SuperStarlet XXX aims to build a culture that gives privilege and power to the most vulnerable. “If we create spaces that center the needs of the marginalized, trans people, queer folks, the working class, those often pushed to the periphery, then we create a safer, more inclusive space for everyone,” they say. Fellow organizer Aly Cabral echoes the same sentiment. “To some people, parties are escapism, but for me it’s a chance to get together and confront truths.”

One of the biggest lessons SuperStarlet XXX learned? “Kung ano ang hindi kayang gawin ng kasama mo, ikaw ang gagawa (What others can’t do, you have to do for them),” they share. “It’s about stepping in, lifting each other up, and building something greater than the sum of our parts.”

Villareal found that, beyond the music, lights, and bodies, there was an underlying theme of intention. “People come to raves to feel, to release, to reconnect with themselves, with each other, with something larger. It’s a space where emotion moves through sound, and connection doesn’t always need words,” he says. The dance floor becomes a safe space to be vulnerable, and when the lights go down and the music starts, an invitation to come as you are.