On weekdays in Manila, 86-year-old Al Enriquez pushes a rickety wooden cart with a rainbow umbrella parked on the dilapidated wood. He sells candy and cigarettes outside a bustling commuter supermarket, where occasional smokers or a kid with a few pennies drop by to shop. On these busy and chaotic streets, Mr. Enriquez — devoured by the t-shirt and basketball shorts dangling from his small, aging body — is often overlooked by crowds.
On weekends, however, he takes on the stage name Carmen de la Rue and transforms into a Manila-based performer, wearing long polka dot dresses, elaborate make-up, heels and wigs. .
Mr. Enriquez belongs to a community of older gay men who call themselves the Golden Gays. They have lived together for decades in the Philippines, holding concerts and pageants on weekends to make ends meet.
The community was founded in the 1970s by Justo Justo, a Manila city lawmaker, AIDS activist and commentator. He opened his home to shelter grandmothers, or grandmothers, an affectionate term the group has used to refer to its members.
When Mr. Justo founded Golden Gays, he wanted to create a care home for gay men living on the streets of Manila, rejected by family and society. The community has evolved into a place where residents are also encouraged to accept their gender identity. Some members, like Mr. Enriquez, embody both male and female. Others choose to maintain a feminine theatrical identity in their everyday lives.
Mr. Justo sheltered the Golden Gays in his own home until his death in 2012. Without Mr. Justo as patron, the group now includes about 20 people who have returned to the streets. Ramon Busa, current president of Golden Gays, who goes by the stage name Lola Mon or Monique de la Rue, said: “Many people have had to go back to the street where they came from.
One of the members, Federico Ramasamy, known as Lola Rica, got a job as a street sweeper and was given a room in a slum. Lola Rica stuffed her belongings and outfits into the small room and welcomed the other Yellow Gays who had nowhere else to go. Tragically, a fire consumed the apartment. Everyone is safe, but Lola Rica’s high heels, cape, wig, and photo have been lost.
“Time is limited. Our philosophy – because we’re showgirls – is that the show has to go on. Life has to go on,” said Lola Mon, 72.
It wasn’t until 2018 that the group made enough money to rent a small house to share in Manila. “We consider ourselves orphans, though maybe that doesn’t apply to us, because we’re old,” laughs Lola Mon. “We protect everyone one by one, because we have no carers to turn to.”
In the Philippines, there are few support systems beyond the traditional family. According to government data, more than half of citizens aged 60 and over live without a pension, which automatically classifies someone as living in poverty. The country’s largely Catholic society has long discriminated against the LGBTQ community, which means many Golden Gays can’t find work when they’re young. Pensions were out of question.
“They were kicked out of the house by the Justo family, and I guess what sparked the community through that kind of story was the shared experience of being left out, being kicked out of the house you want for yourself,” he said. says Mela Habijan, a pageant queen and LGBTQ community organizer.
“That shared experience will always be the fulcrum” of the community, says Ms. Habijan. “We know what it feels like to be rejected. We know what it feels like to be rejected. We know the fear of being kicked out of our own home.”
After they were evicted from Mr. Justo’s home, several members of the Golden Gays entered homeless shelters but said they felt unsafe in the men’s dormitory and were uncomfortable with the period. hope that they will perform religious ceremonies, as many shelters in the Philippines are run by faith-based organizations. In the absence of a traditional family structure, the Golden Gays had to create their own support systems.
During the pandemic, the government banned older Filipinos, who are considered more vulnerable to Covid, from leaving their homes. The government also banned mass gatherings to prevent further outbreaks, which resulted in the Golden Gays having to suspend their performances.
“The festivals are gone, there are no shows. Bars are closed. Where will the money come from? Another member of the group, Robert Pangilinan, who goes by the stage name Odessa Jones, said the girls performing were the first to be battered by the pandemic.
The group has survived the pandemic thanks to donations from fans and supporters. “We were loved. The community hasn’t abandoned us,” said Odessa Jones, 55.
The house of the Golden Gays is painted green, and the doorway is decorated with rainbow tassels welcoming those who enter. Pictures of programs adorn the walls. Residents share tasks such as cleaning, cooking, and caring. Becoming a resident is a very informal process that has changed over the years. People can be referred by other residents, and the door is always open to older performers who request to join or are in need of shelter.
On a recent afternoon, the whole family was filled with laughter over the crackling of the warm pot in the kitchen. Mr. Enriquez holds Odessa Jones’s hand. A small marble vase stands on a shelf. It contains the ashes of Lola Rica, the resident who generously shared his apartment after the Golden Gays were evicted from Mr. Justo’s home in 2021. Lola Rica passed away during the pandemic.
Due to Covid restrictions, the Golden Gays were unable to hold a proper funeral for Lola Rica. One day, when they have more money, they dream of going to the beach – perhaps on a vacation – wearing black lace and scattering Lola Rica’s ashes into the sea.
Now that Covid rules have been relaxed in the Philippines, the Golden Gays are back on stage. On a recent wet Sunday, at a modest mall in Manila, they prepared for a show, putting on elaborate makeup and glittering gowns. Today, those preparations require a little more effort. Mr. Enriquez could not bend over to wear high heels. Lola Mon sometimes needs assistance to climb the stage. A new generation – Silver Gays – has become important to the show.
Golden Gays performances are often contests in which each lola show off a talent such as riding a bike in heels or lip-syncing. Shoppers stopped to catch a glimpse. Their eyes lit up. The performances are reminiscent of the carnival culture of the Philippines, where each neighborhood celebrates the feast of a patron saint. “It was fun,” said Odessa Jones. “I missed everyone’s applause and cheers. I have unlimited energy, because I want to show people that we are still alive.”
When the show ended that Sunday, the Golden Gays held hands as they sang “If We Hold on Together” by Diana Ross. After the show, they went home for a beer to celebrate their performance. “Home is beautiful, because it is a place of complete love,” says Lola Mon. “Love revolves around us. Our friendship is complete, and because we are always together, our friendship is strong.”
