ROLL OUT

Aiala in a look from her Date Night collection. Photography Cole Turner.

Manila-based multi-disciplinary performing artist Hazel – aka Blaze Revlon – spells out her journey as a Queer Filipina bridging the rollerskate and ballroom community in the Philippines.

Text Sami See
Photography Angelou Luque

From Hella Pinay 04: The Fashion Issue. Get your copy here.

A Sagittarius Sun with a Pisces Moon and Capricorn Rising, Hazel’s piercing almond eyes, slickly shaven head, and fierce makeup would tell you that she is not one to be f*cked with. Yet, behind a confident and strong stature is a warm, community-minded creative who channels her erotic power into organizing prowess. Whether she is skate dancing, voguing, or generally being a baddie on TikTok (@missblazerevlon), it’s impossible to not take notice of her skill and long-limbed grace.

A lifelong artist, musician and performer, Hazel played violin professionally for five years in the Manila Symphony Orchestra. Then in 2020, when the COVID-19 pandemic cast its long shadow on the world, her life as a performer as she knew it halted. Recounting that tumultuous time, Hazel says, “You know how crazy it was then, we didn’t know anything. So I really thought, damn, I’m never going to be able to perform again.”Depressed in grief and sheltered in place, Hazel scrolled across her social feed and became interested in the online community of roller skaters. During the pandemic, the longtime tradition of roller skating (yes, the ones with eight wheels; no, not inline roller blades) surged in popularity across the U.S. and Europe, in part due to more skaters across the world sharing their journeys online. Moved to act, Hazel armed herself with a pair of skates and what she lovingly calls her “gay audacity to learn anything alone,” and rolled right into a creative rebirth: as a roller skater.

In the 1970’s on the eastern shore of the Manila Bay, one of the very few roller skate rinks in the Philippines opened up at Luneta Park. There, excitable Filipino youth would flock to the historic site to make their rounds and strut to the beat of disco music (or at least try).

After the initial pulse of interest, skating’s popularity fizzled down, until new skate hobbyists – aptly called “pandemic skaters” – started rolling out into the streets of Manila in search of social outdoor activities. As more skaters tapped in across Luzon, Cebu and other Philippine islands, the demand for skates and safe skate spaces started growing. So when Rolyo Sk8 House, a skate shop and roller rink in Makati, asked Hazel to help grow their business, she stepped in to seamlessly merge her creative passion into a full time gig.

As one of the first Filipinas to share her skate journey so candidly online, Hazel built a reputation as a skater championing authenticity, self-expression and education through her social media channels. For many skaters like Hazel, gliding across the waves of life on eight wheels is a ritual to stay well that harnesses the power of moving in joy. In her case, the way she rolls is with precision, to create a pathway that queers expectations of modesty and conservatism that historically have kept Filipinas, Queers, Trans and gender nonconforming (TGNC) people subjugated, at risk, and intentionally unheard.

A naturally gifted space maker and community builder, Hazel helped Rolyo create a one-of-a-kind venue where newbies and returning skaters alike could play, connect and learn to skate. There, Hazel began honing her dance skating (aka rhythm skating), a tradition born from Black skate communities in rinks across New York, Chicago, Cleveland, Philly, Atlanta, California (to name a few) who had been perfecting innovative styles across generations.

All clothing and handbag, Aiala. **Photography** Cole Turner.

Yet, in the island context, rhythm skating was a new style that hit a different beat. Some conservative skaters in the community responded to Hazel’s growing platform, style, and position with criticism. Hazel explains, “OG’s have criticized us for wanting to teach, because we are new ‘pandemic skaters,’ some of our peers judge us because we wear sexy clothes and are loud and proud in our self-expression, and think we shouldn’t be teaching the kids.” Yet as an organizer, Hazel understands the critical importance of teaching and mentorship to build power. She counters criticisms with questions, asking, “How do you go out and actually make the community strong though? The whole country? You have to be willing to teach. Not even fancy skate moves for advanced skaters. This is teaching 25-year-olds with anxiety, this is a 45-year-old woman who’s getting a bit fragile but is still very strong. You gotta have patience. If we’re not teaching people, we’re not building community. We’re just keeping it to ourselves and hoarding.”

To read the full interview, get your copy of Hella Pinay 04: The Fashion Issue here.