Genuine and unconditional queer liberation will never be possible under capitalism.
I’ve been told hundreds of times how my story, as a queer person, would go. And it made me deathly afraid of sad endings—that one day, tomorrow might never come.
As a lesbian, I had always feared that I would have to do the same things others had to do for their safety, even if it meant leaving my authentic self behind. However, as the country is once again on the verge of fascism and ongoing repression, I am forced to ask myself what I am willing to leave behind.
Thus, as a queer Filipino filmmaker, I know that the complexities of family, history, politics, and queerness could never be separated.
In the midst of the personal narrative of Angie and Badine, a bigger story awaits. The film values the romance between them, but does not depict them only as queer people. We see Angie as a deported Filipino and both of them as workers whose home and workplace is set to be destroyed.
It is apparent that space provides a place for love and resistance to thrive. Through time and people, spaces become communal and personal. But space isn’t always up for grabs in a country that values roads more than bodies, and money more than people.