Meet Vajeijei

Queer Artist

Growing Up Queer in a Small Town

Vajeijei is a queer artist born and raised in Mati City. Never needing to come out to her family, she was made to feel safe in who she is and found it important to never compromise one’s identity for acceptance. This self-assurance, in a small town that can be narrow-minded toward concepts they do not yet understand, is her way of educating the community.

A scrapbook put together by Vajeijei for a college project

Inspired by how the TV series America’s Next Top Model accentuated models’ features typically deemed unattractive, Vajeijei learned that non-conventional beauty can be high-fashion, “I am not commercially beautiful. Some might see me as not feminine enough, not at all fishy (straight woman-passing), and I’m okay with that. I find nothing wrong in banking on your looks but I’ve always found value in learning how to hold a conversation and forming my own opinions.”

Growing up around a family that wasn’t big on reading, Vajeijei found a window into loving books through the encouragement of her high school English teacher, Ms. Barba. Years later, they would remain friends and, along with some friends from grade school, would have “Whine and Wine Nights” where they “whine about their problems over wine.” Vajeijei stresses the importance of a healthy support system such as this, especially for a queer kid growing up in a small town like Mati – people who know her core, share the same interests, and know the importance of a listening ear.

She shares her frustration over people tending to default to calling anyone feminine-presenting “yors/wang/yot” - all shortened Bisaya slang for ‘gay.’ “One can be highly-achieved and still be reduced to 'yors' all because they’re feminine. It’s insulting,” she says. “I don’t care if people misgender me, but if they want to address me, they can learn my name," she says.

The Intertwining of Her Sexuality and Art

An unfinished painting on women’s oppression and objectification ——

Upon meeting her, Vajeijei insists you call her by the name she introduces herself as: “Vajeijei as in the vagina,” she points out. “It’s a play on my real name and my fascination with the female body.” Her early sketches revolved around this fascination. “Maybe my enchantment towards the female body is rooted in my being a trans woman. Maybe that’s my coming out. But I’m still not entirely sure, so I just say I am queer.”

Life After Amputation

Art-filled nook in her room in Davao ——

Since the accident that led to the amputation of her left arm in 2023, Vajeijei admits to deliberately distracting herself from the realities of her situation. “I’ve spent my entire life working on my insecurities, and now this – another drastic insecurity to come to terms with. I felt defeated.”

However, in a pivotal moment during her healing, a friend pointed out similarities in her situation to that of Frida Kahlo – a Mexican feminist painter and an icon to Vajeijei. “Like me, she was self-taught, disabled, and spoke about identity,” she says. At a point in her life where she thought there was no coming back, empowered by channeling Frida, she finally thought,

“Maybe there is life after this.”

Vajeijei says she finds "glimmers of hope" through the book characters she loves like in Orlando by Virginia Woolf.

“A consistent reminder that would emerge is that I had always prided myself on being well-read, eloquent, and kind. An amputation does not diminish any of that.”

She also owes her resilience to the support her friends and family have provided. She shared that she never cried when the accident happened. Operating in survival mode, needing to give out orders to family members regarding her valuables, and having to decide for herself whether or not to amputate her arm, she recalls, ”The following week, I decided to post about it so I wouldn’t have to explain anything when people saw me next. The one time I cried was over the overwhelming support I received after that.”

“Celebrating little wins like being able to dress my wounds, and tying my shoelaces - I look forward to those now,” she shares. “I also wish to design my tattoo for this stump once it’s completely healed. Most likely inspired by Frida.”

The Frida Complex, 2013

This painting was published internationally in 2016 as part of an art calendar. Republished 2021.

On Coping with a Creative Block

Now more than ever, Vajeijei sees the privilege of affording time to paint. “It would be nice to just paint my days away and live off of what I sell. But I have a life to do, and a day job to keep,” she says.

A page from a daily sketchbook project initiated by Bree Jonson to help Vajeijei practice her art ——-

Vajeijei looks back to her college days when she met the late Bree Jonson who first got her into painting. She fondly recalls Bree’s ability to inspire creation just by being around her, “She introduced me to colors when all I used to do was sketch. What I loved about her was how we could have a conversation, not necessarily feel the need to paint, but I walked away feeling like everything was right in the world, and I was energized to create. She encouraged us to make mistakes. The beauty of art is that you can always fix that.”

Being in a creative block for five years now, when asked what it would take for her to paint again, she replies, “A good conversation like what I used to have with Bree that could inspire my creativity again — a creative circle I could draw inspiration from. I lack that here in Mati.”

Recently, in a tiny spark of creativity post-amputation, Vajeijei mindlessly started sketching bionic arms on photos of her stump. “I realized late that I can still make art. I amazed myself too. There truly is power in creating.” 

On Her Style and the Evolving Significance of a Haori in Her Life

Vajeijei emphasizes the nuance in both sexuality and its expression through fashion. She believes that being a trans woman does not necessarily have to only mean being feminine. “Even straight women do not have to channel only their femininity. Clothing has no gender,” she says. This is how she challenges the people in Mati. “I can dress the way I want to and that should not affect how you view me or treat me as a person.”

Ignoring remarks from people who tell her to ‘wear dresses so she can be more feminine’, Vajeijei instead can only be seen wearing a haori – a shortened Japanese kimono. The significance of this garment would evolve for Vajeijei before and after her amputation.

Before her accident, a haori served as her way of feeling ‘effortlessly elegant.’ She used to just love the flattering neckline, referring to the book Memoirs of a Geisha where it was said that the neck is the sexiest part of a woman. She loved channeling that.

Now, when asked how this garment’s significance evolved post-amputation, she excitingly shares: “I discovered the anime Blue Eyed Samurai after my amputation. One character said the great samurais wore haoris when they got amputated from sword fights. The long sleeves hide their amputation. That was so significant for me. What used to be just my way of not putting gender in my clothing has become my means of being comfortable in this new skin.”