The chos-tice league
Xtina Superstar. Profession: Superstar.” “Peabo Orilla. Make-up artist, Philippines.” “Jujiin Samonte. Visual artist.” “Mike Lavarez. Fashion designer.” “Paulo Castro. X-Factor winner. Chos.” “Darryl Reciña. Anak, kapatid, kaibigan.” “RC XY. Stunner.” “Nixon Marquez. Designer.” Someone in the group screeches, “Ayyy! Umulit
ka ng ‘designer’! Bawal yan!” Gut-wrenching laughter ensues as our round of beauty queen-esque introductions gives way to great conversation.
Before me sits a creative family; one built with fierce aesthetics, exceptional tolerance, unquestionable friendship, and miles upon miles of humor. These are the Panty Monsters — a group of strong, passionate artists armed with lithe bodies and sharp minds.
“To me, everything in life is art,” says the wonderfully outspoken Paulo Castro. “That’s the importance of art in expressing ourselves. Everything we do, to us, is art. That’s why we dress the way we do, and act the way we do — actually, we don’t even act it; we just are.”
Like so many artists that came before, the Panty Monsters was not always so well received, as Jujiin Samonte recounts how their band of merrymakers came to be. Many in the group had been turned away at local clubs for not adhering to strict dress codes, because none of them dressed the way boys are generally expected to dress. So, spearheaded by stylist Lotho Lotho, it was decided that if the Monsters couldn’t join them, then they’d change the game completely.
The Panty Monsters started in B-side at The Collective as a regular event where everyone in the group paired off into turntable duos, with each pair subscribing to a vastly different genre. This is meant in the most literal sense, as their personal music icons range from Christina Aguilera and the Spice Girls to Maxwell to Hyper Crush and Amanda Banks to, surprise surprise, Aegis. (Peabo Orilla mentions his love for Regine Velasquez, and says, “Feel na feel ko yung pagkabakla ko pag pinapakinggan ko siya” before breaking into song.)
JUST ENJOY
Mike Lavarez, who studied to be a deejay, says, “The difference with our group is that we just enjoy. It’s taste over skill; that’s why we connect to our crowd. It’s really just the music. It doesn’t have anything to do with how good we mix.” Xtina Superstar agrees quite vocally, adding, “We don’t even want to call ourselves deejays, because we just play the music that we want and love.”
They confess to playing “guilty pleasure” music, which Darryl Reciña describes as “yung gusto mo pero ayaw mong aminin, yung mga pinapakinggan mo pag mag-isa ka sa kwarto mo, yung ‘pag pinapatugtog sa club may magugulat na, ‘Ay, memorized niya.’” When I ask about the significance of the music, there is an audible gasp that fills the room with a deep reverence. Each Monster clamors to respond, but the one that sends a sharp stab through my heart comes from Paulo. He says quite plainly, “Michael Jackson saved my life. As a child, I was abused by my father — emotionally, verbally, physically. What I saw in Michael Jackson, other than the fact that his music made me happy, was that he was also abused by his father and he still became the King of Pop. So sabi ko, ‘ Hindi ko kelangang mag- focus dito na inaabuso ako. Kaya kong abutin yung kahit anong gusto ko.’”
DEFY CONVENTION
For those who have ever wondered what lies behind the Panty Monsters’ crowns of thorns and layers of chiffon, here lies the meat. It is clear that not only do they constantly defy convention, but that there is no restriction or circumstance that can bind them. It is also clear that there really is no one simple way to define this collective. (If you’re tempted to do it by sexual orientation, you can think again. “Gender isn’t our only identity,” RC XY Bautista says. “Nagkataon lang na mga bading kami.”) But what is most apparent is that self-empowerment is a main driving force within the group. Nixon Marquez brings up Emma Stone’s acceptance speech at the MTV Movie Awards. (Stone spoke about her idols after being presented the first ever Trailblazer award, saying, “I’m not following any of their paths. What’s incredible about them is they help make me want to be more myself because they’re all originals.”) He remarks thoughtfully, “You don’t always have to look up to someone. If you don’t have anyone to idolize, it’s your chance to be unique, to be an individual.” “In this world, ang mga mahilig magtawa yung magkakamukha,” adds Paulo. “Maraming may masasabi tungkol sayo, but you’ll find that group who loves you for who you are. But first, you have to love yourself for everything you are.”
What may have started out as parties for the uninvited, and the sheer joy of getting people to publicly dance to the likes of Salbakuta or Donna Cruz’s Kapag Tumibok Ang Puso, has expanded exponentially into a movement where there is a place for everybody, regardless of style, shape, preference, or predilections. A place where, amid the haze of panties and so-called monsters, anyone who’s ever felt different can find a place to call home.