The Queer Force Within: Culture Bearers of the South and the Becoming of Queerness in Ancestral Work

In every corner of the galaxy, the Force manifests in many forms. At House of Gongs, we’ve learned that sometimes, the most radiant lightsabers don’t swing in battle—but ring in the gentle hum of kulintang, in the swaying grace of igal, and in the unapologetic spirit of queer cultural ambassadors who dare to live their truth while carrying the weight of ancestral memory.

This is a love letter to the queer culture bearers of the South—a constellation of beings who defy binaries, breathe life into old traditions, and bring fierce love into everything they do.

The Becoming of Queerness in Cultural Work

Growing up with queer siblings, my heart has always known that queerness is not “other.” It is family. It is magic. It is the unexpected choreography between who we are and what we inherit.

As we journey through the work of House of Gongs—reclaiming and remembering Indigenous Filipino music, protecting our sonic heritage, and building intergenerational healing through kulintang—we are continually blessed by the queer voices who shape this path with us. They are the storyline of this whole narrative.

Their queerness exists within their cultural role. They are entwined with it. It reshapes the drumbeats of resistance, layers the agong with new frequencies of truth, and sends out ripple waves of empowerment that reach way beyond the performance space.

Farid Guinomla: Kulintang Jedi and Queer Icon

If the gong world had its own Obi-Wan Kenobi, we’d find him in the majestic, magnetic, and wildly confident presence of Farid Guinomla—a master kulintang artist whose queerness sings just as boldly as his music.

Farid embodies confidence and softness when he’s in front of the gongs. You’ll find him adorned in signature scents (his fragrance game is always 10/10), casually vibing to Regine Velasquez ballads, and curating cuteness with the same intensity he gives to kulintang tuning.

He is not afraid to speak his truth—on stage, online, or in a room full of cultural gatekeepers. He calls things as they are. He defends the sacred and demands respect for queer lives within Indigenous traditions. And honestly? We’re in awe. We stan. We learn.

He’s THE bearer of gongs—he’s a bearer of fire. A true New Force.

Al-Raffy Harun: Guardian of Igal, Lover of Community

In another dimension, on the water-laced edges of Sitangkai, Tawi-Tawi, we met Al-Raffy Harun, a radiant culture bearer of the Sama Bajau peoples. His movements tell stories older than the empire. His research holds the textures of sea, prayer, and dance. And his love for his people? That’s the real magic.

Raffy is an Igal practitioner, cultural researcher, and the visionary behind Pamusaka—a powerful initiative that documents, archives, and celebrates living traditions of his community with depth and beauty. But behind every artifact and choreographed gesture is a heart that loves fiercely.

His queerness is not framed by the Western gaze—it is oceanic, spiritual, generous. He is fierce in a way that silences the room, not with fear, but with reverence. The kind of reverence that makes you bow your head and hold your breath.

Like a true galactic guardian, he fights for continuity in culture while living a truth that rejects silence. He is the kind of storyteller that keeps galaxies spinning.

The Queer Ones Who Stay Behind the Veil

There are many others. Too many to name.

Some of the queer culture bearers we love and work with are still in their becoming. Some hold their queerness in sacred privacy, others share it only in safe spaces, and some are still navigating the language to name it. But whether loud or quiet, seen or unseen, their energy is unmistakable. Their impact is felt.

To them: we see you. We honor you. We are holding the Force with you.

Queerness and Culture Are Not Separate

Let’s be clear: queerness is not a modern interference to tradition—it is tradition. It has always existed in our stories, in the liminal roles of shamans and babaylans, in the androgynous forms of deities and spirits, in the performers who sang our histories into being.

The colonizers taught us to fear queerness. But our ancestors? They danced with it. They listened.

And so do we.

In our House, queerness is in the rhythm of our programming, the diversity of our collaborators, and the freedom we make space for in every gathering. From Gongster’s Paradise to Paghilom: Sounds of Healing, to Uni at Ugat Music Camp; from workshops to concerts, the queer force is always with us.

To Our Queer Gongsters…

You are the rebels with rhythm, the sages in sequins, the guardians of memory, and the future we’re fighting for.

We are so blessed to call you family.

We thank you for showing us that healing is beyond survival assimilation—it’s about wholeness. That truth-telling can be done with a fan in one hand and a gong mallet in the other. That love, especially queer love, is a revolutionary tool in cultural work.

This one’s for you.

The light you carry cannot be colonized.

Your queerness is power.

Your culture-bearing is sacred.

And your story—like the sound of the kulintang—will echo far into the galaxies.

May the gongs be with you, always.

— Mama Gongs