Father Richard Mickley, founder of MCC Manila and a pioneering figure in LGBTQ+ Christian ministry and Pride activism in the Philippines. Photo courtesy of the LGBTQ Religious Archives Network.
In the summer of 1999, I conducted anthropological fieldwork in Metropolitan Manila for my Master’s thesis at Northern Illinois University. My research focused on how Filipino understandings of homosexuality and gender identity were interacting with emerging Western LGBTQ+ political identities during the era of globalization (Walter, 1999). Looking back more than two decades later, I now realize that I was witnessing a foundational transitional period in Philippine LGBTQ+ history.
My thesis, The Gender Behaviors of Filipino Male Homosexuals in Metropolitan Manila Within the Era of Cultural Globalization, examined the relationship between bakla identity, masculine homosexual identity, class, and globalization within Metro Manila (Walter, 1999). During this period, post-Stonewall LGBTQ+ political discourse from the United States was increasingly circulating through media, activism, universities, and transnational social networks. However, these ideas were not simply imported intact into the Philippines. They were reshaped through Filipino cultural understandings of gender, sexuality, religion, family, and class.
During my fieldwork, I stayed in a house in Santa Mesa associated with the Filipino LGBTQ+ newspaper Manila Out. The editor-in-chief of the paper was Father Richard Mickley, an American minister affiliated with the Metropolitan Community Church (MCC). At the time, I understood him primarily as an older American clergyman deeply involved in local LGBTQ+ ministry and activism. Only later did I fully appreciate his historical importance within Philippine queer history.
Richard Mickley was one of the pioneering figures of openly LGBTQ+-affirming Christian ministry in the Philippines. After relocating to the country in 1991, he founded MCC Manila and became involved with LGBTQ+ advocacy and community organizing (Mickley, n.d.). He later worked alongside organizations such as Pro-Gay Philippines and activists including Oscar Atadero in helping organize the 1994 Pride March in Manila, now recognized as the first Pride march in both the Philippines and Asia (UNDP & USAID, 2014).
One of the most striking aspects of LGBTQ+ activism in Manila during 1999 was how interconnected the movement remained. Activists, students, clergy, journalists, researchers, and organizers frequently occupied the same social and physical spaces. Political organizing occurred not only through formal institutions, but also through apartments, cafés, churches, universities, newspapers, and shared community houses.
Through organizations such as Pro-Gay, Babaylan at the University of the Philippines, Manila MCC, and Manila Out, I conducted participant observation and interviews among Filipino gay men in Metro Manila. During this period, I also marched in the 1999 Manila Pride Parade, experiencing firsthand the growing visibility and political energy of the Philippine LGBTQ+ movement at the turn of the millennium. At the time, the Pride movement in Manila was still relatively small compared to large Western Pride celebrations, but it carried an intense sense of community, activism, and historical importance.
These experiences led me to conceptualize what I described in my thesis as “The Filipinoization of the Legacy of Stonewall” (Walter, 1999). By this, I meant that Filipino LGBTQ+ communities were adapting global queer political frameworks into distinctly Filipino cultural contexts rather than simply reproducing Western identity categories.
This distinction is anthropologically important. Western LGBTQ+ political discourse has often emphasized sexuality through identity categories such as “gay,” “lesbian,” or “bisexual.” In contrast, Filipino concepts such as bakla historically encompassed more fluid intersections of gender expression, sexuality, social role, performance, and class (Garcia, 2008). The globalization of queer politics in the Philippines therefore produced hybrid identities shaped simultaneously by local traditions and transnational political discourse.
Religion also played a major role in these tensions. I attended Catholic Mass with Richard Mickley during my stay in Manila, and although he retained appreciation for Catholic ritual and spirituality, he was sharply critical of institutional Catholic teachings regarding sexuality and LGBTQ+ exclusion. His later writings reflected strong opposition to what he described as “sex-negative theology,” particularly regarding LGBTQ+ marginalization and the Catholic Church’s role during the AIDS crisis (Mickley, n.d.).
Looking back now, I recognize that I was present during a major historical transition in Southeast Asian LGBTQ+ history:
- the expansion of organized Pride activism,
- the growth of LGBTQ+ political organizations,
- the emergence of queer Filipino media,
- and the globalization of queer political identity at the end of the twentieth century.
At the time, however, these developments did not feel historic. They felt immediate and deeply human. People were organizing marches, publishing newspapers, building communities, debating identity, and creating spaces where LGBTQ+ Filipinos could exist openly within a rapidly changing society.
Richard Mickley passed away on February 14, 2023. Reflecting on my experiences now, I realize that I had the privilege not only to conduct research during a pivotal moment in Philippine LGBTQ+ history, but also to personally participate in that history while encountering one of the individuals who helped shape it.
Perhaps the most important lesson I took from that fieldwork is that global political movements are never simply exported unchanged into new societies. They become translated, localized, and transformed through existing cultural systems. Stonewall did not simply arrive in the Philippines unchanged. It became Filipino.
References
Garcia, J. N. C. (2008). Philippine gay culture: Binabae to bakla, silahis to MSM. University of the Philippines Press.
Mickley, R. (n.d.). Biography and ministry history. Metropolitan Community Church historical materials.
United Nations Development Programme [UNDP], & United States Agency for International Development [USAID]. (2014). Being LGBT in Asia: The Philippines country report.
Walter, K. (1999). The gender behaviors of Filipino male homosexuals in Metropolitan Manila within the era of cultural globalization (Master’s thesis, Northern Illinois University).
Bad Bunny, the Super Bowl, and the Politics of Identity
By Katherine Walter
On February 11, 2026
In cultural politics
SANTA CLARA, CALIFORNIA – FEBRUARY 08: Bad Bunny performs onstage during the Apple Music Super Bowl LX Halftime Show at Levi’s Stadium on February 08, 2026 in Santa Clara, California. (Photo by Thearon W. Henderson/Getty Images)
The 2026 Super Bowl halftime show, headlined by Bad Bunny, quickly became one of the most culturally and politically charged performances in recent memory. Announced months in advance as the featured performer, Bad Bunny’s selection already signaled a shift in the NFL’s cultural positioning, reflecting the growing influence of Latino audiences in American media (CBS News, 2026). When he ultimately took the stage, performing largely in Spanish and centering Puerto Rican identity, the symbolism was unmistakable.
The performance was widely interpreted not just as entertainment, but as cultural assertion. Spanish-language lyrics dominated the set, and the staging highlighted themes of Latino pride, resilience, and collective identity. El País (2026) described the show as a “protest dance,” suggesting that the performance functioned as a statement of presence in a political climate often marked by contentious immigration debates and nationalist rhetoric. Rather than presenting overt political slogans, the symbolism operated through visibility: Latino culture on the largest televised stage in the United States.
To me, that is what made the performance powerful. It was not aggressive. It did not attack policy. It celebrated identity. The choice to foreground Spanish was not exclusionary—it was reflective of the lived reality of millions of Americans. In a country where Spanish is the second most spoken language, hearing it dominate the halftime stage felt less like disruption and more like acknowledgment. Representation, in this case, became a form of quiet resistance.
President Donald Trump responded sharply. According to ABC News (2026), Trump called the halftime show a “slap in the face to our country.” Reuters (2026) reported that he described the performance as “absolutely terrible,” while People (2026) noted his criticism that “nobody understands a word this guy is saying.” His reaction framed the performance not as a cultural celebration but as a deviation from traditional American norms.
The criticism did not stop with the President. Entertainment Weekly (2026) reported that House Republicans called for an investigation into the halftime show, citing concerns over its choreography and presentation. The backlash extended beyond language into broader anxieties about morality, cultural standards, and national identity. Meanwhile, reactions were far from uniformly negative. The Guardian (2026) documented widespread praise from artists and public figures who described the performance as joyful and affirming, with some viewers saying it made them feel “proudly American.”
That divide reveals something significant. The controversy was not really about music or choreography. It was about competing visions of America. One vision views national identity as rooted in linguistic and cultural uniformity. The other sees American identity as evolving, multilingual, and shaped by migration and diversity. Bad Bunny’s performance fell squarely into the latter camp.
In my view, the halftime show reflected the America that already exists rather than the one some political leaders nostalgically imagine. A multilingual performance on the Super Bowl stage does not diminish American identity—it expands it. Cultural confidence means embracing diversity, not fearing it. The polarized reaction to the show underscores how entertainment events have become symbolic arenas where broader political tensions play out.
Ultimately, the 2026 Super Bowl halftime show was more than a concert. It was a cultural mirror. Whether one saw it as celebratory or confrontational depended largely on how one defines Americanness itself. The performance—and the reaction from President Trump—demonstrates that debates over language, culture, and belonging remain central to American political life.
References
ABC News. (2026). Trump calls Bad Bunny’s Super Bowl halftime show a “slap in the face to our country.” https://abcnews.go.com/US/trump-calls-bad-bunnys-super-bowl-halftime-show/story?id=129980124
CBS News. (2026). Bad Bunny will headline the 2026 Super Bowl halftime show. https://www.cbsnews.com/news/bad-bunny-2026-super-bowl-halftime-show/
El País. (2026, February 8). Bad Bunny’s Super Bowl: The protest dance of Latinos in the US. https://english.elpais.com/culture/2026-02-08/bad-bunnys-super-bowl-the-protest-dance-of-latinos-in-the-us.html
Entertainment Weekly. (2026). House Republicans call to investigate Bad Bunny Super Bowl halftime show over “widespread twerking, grinding, pelvic thrusts.” https://ew.com/house-republicans-call-for-investigation-of-bad-bunny-super-bowl-halftime-show-11904174
People. (2026). Trump lashes out at Bad Bunny’s Super Bowl halftime show: “Nobody understands a word this guy is saying.” https://people.com/super-bowl-2026-trump-lashes-out-bad-bunny-halftime-show-11902396
Reuters. (2026, February 9). Trump says Bad Bunny’s Super Bowl halftime was “absolutely terrible.” https://www.reuters.com/world/us/trump-says-bad-bunnys-super-bowl-halftime-show-was-absolutely-terrible-2026-02-09/
The Guardian. (2026, February 9). “Made me feel proudly American”: Stars react to Bad Bunny’s Super Bowl show. https://www.theguardian.com/music/2026/feb/09/reactions-bad-bunny-super-bowl-halftime-show