BDSM gear. Photo: Kanghyuk Lee

The Sins party is held by the party collective Shade Seoul. Photo: Kanghyuk Lee

The Sins party known for its BDSM shows has been a staple event since it was launched by party organizer Shade Seoul in 2018. The “inclusive DJ and party label” according to its X account, hosts a range of parties—from its mother party Shade, it also has Glow, Femme, and Sins, each with a different musical genre and theme. The Sins party is the much darker version, featuring harder beats and sexually explicit performances. Held almost every other month, it invites people to explore BDSM and release their sexual energy.

BDSM show performers Oleeverr (right) and Flowerbomb. Photo: Kanghyuk Lee

BDSM show performers Oleeverr (right) and Flowerbomb. Photo: Kanghyuk Lee

BDSM and other erotic practices are often considered taboo in conservative South Korea. Some locals see it as an abnormal sexual desire saying that it’s pleasure derived from violence and mistreatment. In articles published on local media, it is often described as perverted libido. When Love and Leashes, a BDSM-themed South Korean movie, was released on Netflix last year, locals debated whether it was appropriate to bring the topic to light.

BDSM show performer Flowerbomb. Photo: Kanghyuk Lee

But it looks like at least some young people in Seoul are ready to start the discussion. According to the organizer, roughly 400 people attend Shade Seoul’s Sins party whenever they hold the event, with many looking to live out their kinky fantasies away from judgmental eyes. “Those who have come to the Sins party have been given an insight into it [BDSM] and the freedom to explore after,” Shade Seoul’s co-founder Lindsay Ryklief, also known as Ligrye, told VICE. “Take it home, see what you can get into, be a sub, be a pup, pour some wax, get into shibari. You know?”

The party is also its “response to a need for a space for people to experience harder sounds.” With a focus on the techno and industrial music genre, the party has become a platform for diverse BDSM performances because whips and chains go hand-in-hand with harder sounds. “We wanted to show ideas of BDSM, but not say definitively that this is BDSM. It’s just themed, which we feel is an important distinction,” Ligrye said.

Performer Rust. Photo: Kanghyuk Lee

Another thing that makes it special is the collaborations with local and international artists. Ligrye said some of the most memorable moments for the team consisting of himself, Korean DJs Net Gala and Seesea, include the wax show, where performers pour wax from candles all over their bodies, and the sparks show, where they shoot sparks out of metal spikes on their bras. Some of the biggest collaborations include those with burlesque performer Flowerbomb and artists like Arca, Juliana Huxtable, and Yaeji.

Shade Seoul crew member and DJ Seesea. Photo: Kanghyuk Lee

These parties are usually held in Cakeshop, an underground club in Seoul’s nightlife district Itaewon where many LGBTQ bars and clubs can be found. The collective does its best to ensure that its party is a safe space for everyone and reminds partygoers of its policy for each event: “There will be a zero-tolerance policy for harassment of any kind… Body shaming, slut shaming, racism, ableism, ageism, transphobia, homophobia, xenophobia, and fatphobia are not tolerated.”

The Sins party is held by the party collective Shade Seoul. Photo: Kanghyuk Lee

“It’s really nice because whoever you are, you can come to the party regardless of your gender identity and sexual orientation,” said photographer Kanghyuk Lee, who captured the party.

“In Seoul, it’s almost impossible to find a club party where everyone can blend in with one another. Surprisingly, my gay friends also said they had more fun and felt more liberated at the event than at other parties only for gay people as they don’t have to dance under the table.”

The Sins party is held by the party collective Shade Seoul. Photo: Kanghyuk Lee

“BDSM performances are more of letting people get vicarious pleasure. I hope that there will be more such events,” the photographer said. “Our sexual desires are repressed in South Korea. People need to have those sexual outlets. How could anyone possibly live without finding the release?”

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Virtual YouTubers, or VTubers, may not be the freshest digital trend, but they have risen to prominence, exciting tech enthusiasts, otaku, and web subculture diggers. These virtual streamers bring computer-generated imagery (CGI) personas to life, forging a deep synergy with fans through live streams and pre-recorded videos. Androids, nekomusume (cat girls), ikemen (attractive men), and magical girls are just a few examples of the eclectic cast within this web-based realm, reminiscent of anime or manga.

With the surge of technology, VTubers have emerged as digital personalities, craftable by individuals or agencies, complete with captivating and imaginative backgrounds. This fusion of tech and entertainment has given rise to a rich online content realm.

Their popularity in Asia can be attributed to the cultural affinity for animated characters, the rise of internet and gaming culture, as seen in the fame of examples like Kizuna AI (on hiatus) from Japan and Moona Hoshinova from Indonesia, and the appeal of anonymity through virtual avatars when they are handled by single individuals. As their popularity soared, they became some of the highest-earning and most popular accounts on streaming platforms.

Japanese VTuber and self-proclaimed Metaverse diva, Edo Lena 江戸レナ, explained to VICE that this cultural phenomenon is not only flourishing in Japan but is also garnering global attention. The appeal of VTubers has transcended language barriers and cultural boundaries, attracting followers from diverse backgrounds worldwide. English-speaking streamers from HoloLive, a Japanese talent agency known for engaging global audiences, contributed to the rise of VTubers.

“I recognized the value of VTubing as a form of unscripted anime back in 2020,” Sally Slade, VTuber enthusiast and chief technology officer of Los Angeles-based real-time studio Voltaku, told VICE. “They brought unscripted reality-TV-like entertainment to Western otaku, defying technical constraints through real-time animation and fostering interactive connections in a ‘safe space.’ This drove their meteoric rise,” she added, pointing out that it has become a global entertainment phenomenon.

For Joanne Paek, a Korean VTuber lover and fan of Edo Lena, they are fascinating and creative tools in the internet era. “It’s interesting how individuals can create content and interact with online communities through a digital identity. Although I do watch VTuber content for entertainment, oftentimes I find that I am unable to suspend my disbelief when watching because I tend to naturally think about the person performing behind the digital characters,” she said.

Edo Lena. Image courtesy of Edo Lena

Recognized as 姫 (hime or princess) by her fans, Edo Lena is an independent VSinger hailing from the Edo period. Her character is inspired by the rich history and culture of that era and combined with imaginative storytelling to conceive the idea of a time-traveling VSinger in the digital era. 

“In the realm of VTubers, there appears to be a concept of a person behind the avatar, but in reality, that doesn’t exist. I am me. I undeniably exist!” Edo Lena said. She highlights the intriguing dynamic of VTubing, where the virtual persona captivates fans while the true identity of the VTuber remains distinct, showcasing how VTubing facilitates a multifaceted expression of self and creativity.

“The most meaningful aspect of our interaction lies in the mutual communication through fan art,” she said, adding that she and her audience treat each other like pals. This dynamic reflects a blend of both friendship and a parasocial connection.

Similar to other prominent fandoms such as K-pop group NewJeans or TWICE’s dedicated supporters, Edo Lena’s fanbase shares encouraging comments and creates fan art that underscores their emotional investment. “The most surprising was a decorated car, an unconventional creation that deeply impressed me. Furthermore, the support from an entire family was equally touching,” she said. Their unwavering backing became evident as they gathered in the comfort of their house, streaming Edo Lena’s metaverse appearance and passionately singing her songs.

The bond between VTubers and their fans, however, is a tenuous one. It is primarily hinged on the consistent portrayal of the virtual character’s personality and interactions. VTubers need to maintain a delicate balance of authenticity and entertainment, ensuring that their avatars remain engaging. To sustain this relationship, VTubers often create regular content, live streams, and interactive sessions, allowing fans to participate directly and fostering a sense of involvement. This engagement, combined with the avatar’s distinct traits, helps cultivate a dedicated following.

Edo Lena performing within the physical space. Image courtesy of Edo Lena

But VTubers also experience a fair share of trolling and harassment because of their strong online presence. “When faced with cyberbullying, I can’t help but feel extremely uncomfortable,” Edo Lena explained. “Despite the immense support from many fans, there have been instances where a single comment weighed on my mind, causing distress.” This vulnerability sheds light on the emotional toll that comes with the online spotlight. Whether it’s hurtful remarks about appearance or harsh criticism of content, an isolated statement can have a profound impact on her well-being, highlighting the challenges she faces.

Since communication methods differ across platforms, the way VTubers manage them also varies. “For YouTube, particularly during live broadcasts, I make sure to outline the rules in the description box or in the streaming comments,” she told VICE. “While I am careful, the nature of live broadcasts and X (Twitter) means that without discretion, accidental disclosures related to privacy can happen.” 

In such situations, where fans’ enthusiasm runs high, there’s a possibility of unintentionally disclosing personal details such as home addresses, private family matters, and friendships, consequently undermining privacy. As a result, prominent agencies have proactively initiated measures to protect the privacy of VTubers. These strategies encompass advocating for the use of pseudonyms, furnishing online safety guidance, and incorporating moderation to thwart potential harassment or intrusive queries.

This balance assumes even greater significance as VTubing breaks the wall between creators and followers, sustaining parasocial relationships where fans develop emotional attachment and familiarity with virtual personalities. Edo Lena highlighted that this relationship is particularly pronounced in Japan, where a strong tradition of idol fandom and fan culture prevails. 

Much like individuals who cultivate internet or social media personas, VTubers grapple with the task of negotiating the boundary between their digital avatars and their authentic selves. This intricate balancing act involves maintaining authenticity and privacy. Edo Lena observed, “I have seen various approaches to navigating the boundary between virtual and real selves,” with some VTubers adopting an actress-like demeanor while others project their real-life personalities onto their avatars.

But constantly managing a dual personality can indeed impact mental well-being. This attempt leads to identity conflicts, authenticity concerns, and emotional fatigue, which can contribute to stress and challenges related to privacy. The ongoing effort to meet audience expectations while safeguarding mental health amplifies pressure, exerting an influence on their overall psychological welfare.

Social media platforms, especially YouTube, offer VTubers a means to engage in real-time interactions and foster bonds with their audiences. At its core, fan culture revolves around supporting and cheering for idols.

Within the VTuber culture, which encompasses platforms like Niconico, admirers express their support in various ways, through art, virtual gifts, and virtual meet-and-greet sessions. Still, parasocial relationships with VTubers need to be approached with awareness of the potential pros and cons. On one hand, fans can experience emotional connection and inspiration, but on the other hand, they may also face risks of developing unrealistic expectations and emotional dependency.

Edo Lena. Image courtesy of Edo Lena

VTubers’ use of virtual avatars and real-time interactions enables them to engage audiences in a more personal and immersive way, transforming traditional passive entertainment into active and participatory experiences. As they continue to evolve, we may see VTubers go beyond the gaming and music genres and get into virtual fitness training and virtual storytelling, moving beyond the otaku fandom and entering real idol and live artist culture. 

“They’re expanding into mainstream media and becoming part of people’s daily lives through metaverses, new devices, and tools,” Edo Lena said. “AI development is going to break down tech barriers and put a spotlight on VTubers’ concepts and messaging.” 

To further delve into the implications of VTubers’ existence, Japanese new media artist Jackson Kaki said, “I see VTubers as a new aspect of existentialism. When we gain a virtual body separate from our physical one, it creates a new existence through media appearances and communication. This happens when our intentions and thoughts from our physical body are conveyed through a different medium,” he said. “Conversely, K-pop or J-pop idols hinge on their physical bodies, and if their physical presence ceases, their existence dissipates.”

With different countries having different expectations for online content and characters, we might see more VTubers embracing cross-cultural perspectives and going local. 

Looking ahead, VTubers are set to become popular intellectual properties (IPs) in Japan, getting even more into mainstream media, and creating demand in niche and emerging forms such as virtual reality concerts, interactive storytelling experiences, and virtual social events.

Their involvement in the metaverse and blockchain technology hints at a future where advertising and entertainment transcend reality. User-friendly devices and cryptocurrencies accelerate this transformation. Meanwhile, development companies offer virtual-related devices, apps, and games that cater to personal expression and interests, providing new experiences and opportunities for all individuals, including virtual enthusiasts and normies alike.

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Before graduating from university, the young rapper had an idea for a rap tournament. That tournament would go on to transform the local perception of hip-hop and rappers for years to come.

Yuson, also known as Anygma, is the man behind the legendary battle rap league FlipTop.

FlipTop consists of several tournaments in which rappers, otherwise known as emcees, insult and outwit each other in a series of timed rounds, mediated by a host and decided by a group of judges in front of a live audience. Emcees battle alone, in pairs, or in teams, and the winners of each round battle each other until a champion emerges.

Unlike other battle rap events in the country at the time, which adopted the freestyle-with-a-backing-track format popularized by the movie 8 Mile, FlipTop emcees write their rhymes before their battles and deliver them a cappella, or without an instrumental track. This ensures emcees win because of their lyricism, or what Anygma called “the power of concentrated thought,” and not by how well they can ride the rhythm of a track.

“Between its emcees being extremely particular about the rhymes they write, and the fans becoming meticulous about the lines they hear, I think FlipTop has increased the quality of lyricism in the country,” said Joseph Martin Cagasan, aka Sinio, 32, a FlipTop emcee known for the jokes he injects into his verses.

Freestyle, of course, is not dead. The ability to come up with rhymes on the fly often spells the difference between what Anygma called “regulars” and “God-level” emcees. But preparing rhymes allows some rappers to better articulate themselves without having to hide the fact that they write rhymes in advance anyway.

“There was also a chapter in the history of battle rap wherein the people would join these freestyle battles [with written rhymes] but then they would all claim that it was still freestyle. No one would admit that they would actually prepare for it,” said Anygma.

The first FlipTop event happened in February of 2010. It was called Grain Assault. Two hundred people gathered to watch hip-hop veterans battle each other in a cafe in Makati City, in the format that Anygma was just about to introduce to the local scene.

“It was different, definitely surreal, and nerve-wracking,” Anygma said. He hosted that first event and continues to host all FlipTop events to this day.

The a cappella format was already popular in battle rap leagues in the United States and Canada, but this would be the first time it was applied in the Philippines. The emcees who joined that first FlipTop battle agreed to do the event without knowing how it would go down or what they needed to do to prepare for it. Anygma said that one emcee even refused to proceed during the event, insisting they do it “the old-school way.”

Anymga. Photo: Courtesy of FlipTop

But the event proceeded as planned. “We knew right away that this was something special,” said Batas, a FlipTop emcee who battled in Grain Assault. He went on to win two consecutive FlipTop Isabuhay tournaments, making him the first and only back-to-back champion.

The rhymes emcees deliver in FlipTop battles are loaded with the kind of anger and aggression you’d expect from sworn enemies but also a familiarity and intimacy only known by the closest friends. The intensity of the delivery catches your attention while the intricacy of the words keeps it.

“I think people got hooked on FlipTop because we love to gossip,” said Sinio, the emcee known for his humor. “It’s like when your neighbors are fighting, husbands and wives screaming at each other, and you find a way to watch and find out what it is they’re fighting about.”

While hip-hop fans flocked to the live tournaments, videos of the battles on the FlipTop YouTube channel spread almost as quickly as the emcees could rap. Anymga explained that uploading the battles for anyone to watch for free online, instead of finding a way to sell them, was one of the reasons FlipTop has become as big as it is.

FlipTop Festival. Photo: Courtesy of FlipTop

Within two years of its debut, FlipTop became one of the biggest and most viewed rap battle events around the world. The channel now has over two billion views and more than seven million subscribers. “FlipTop” as a term has become synonymous with any sort of rap battling in the Philippines.

Anygma credits FlipTop’s success to a mix of factors, but mostly the talent of the emcees. “It’s not like we got lucky. It’s not like these guys suck and then people like it,” Anygma said.

“The talent is actually there—waiting to be seen, waiting to be appreciated, waiting to be understood.”

Many local emcees say that FlipTop was instrumental not just in the growth of the Philippine hip-hop scene but in the lives of the people in it. The league has catapulted many emcees’ careers, giving them nationwide recognition and allowing them a myriad of music and business opportunities.

Pistolero. Photo: Courtesy of FlipTop

“This isn’t just a simple league for me. Once you make it here, FlipTop can easily change your life as an emcee,” said 28-year-old emcee Christian Carlo Cañares, or Pistolero, the 2022 champion of FlipTop’s Isabuhay tournament. In 2021, Pistolero released his debut solo album 25 Anyos. He also now runs his own jewelry and watch company.

Pistolero learned about the league when he saw his high school classmates rapping without a backing track, and they told him that was FlipTop.

Today, all FlipTop battles are in Filipino. But in its early years, the league featured battles in English, too. Part of the format it introduced was a division between the battles in Filipino and the battles in English. Before the league, emcees who rapped in Filipino battled those who rapped in English.

The vibe was different back then, Anygma said, when the “grimiest of the grimy from the hood” battled “English-speaking motherfuckers.” Anygma pointed out that he was an “English-speaking motherfucker” himself. People weren’t as diplomatic as they are today, and the tensions were high. Sometimes, those who rapped in Filipino won even when those who rapped in English were technically better.

Sinio. Photo: Courtesy of FlipTop

In the Philippines, a person’s first language was and still is often an indication of social class. That means the language emcees used invited biases in judgment. It’s no secret, said Anygma, that people who speak English would judge people who speak Filipino for being tawdry and people who speak Filipino would judge people who speak English for having their heads up their asses. There’s also the fact that those who spoke English couldn’t always understand Filipino, and vice versa.

FlipTop stopped hosting English battles because it ran out of emcees who preferred the language, but in their first event, Anygma explained to the emcees that it was best for the scene to ditch the biases and support hip-hop in both English and Filipino. Separating the battles by language helped level out the playing field among emcees, developing talent in both languages.

Crowds at FlipTop event Ahon. Photo: Courtesy of FlipTop

Of course, not everyone is bobbing their heads. And even Anygma is careful to say that the battle for hip-hop in the country has been won.

As big as FlipTop has made local hip-hop, many Filipinos still shun emcees and the idea of battle rap as a whole. Anygma said the league has been critiqued for not being “real” hip-hop, and its emcees derogatorily called squatters.

Local mainstream media has largely ignored FlipTop, covering them only a handful of times in the past years. Anygma added that local noontime shows, which he refused to name, have also bastardized the league’s name and likeness in the name of comedy. Some might say that this mockery is a sign of success because imitation is the highest form of flattery.

“I don’t agree,” said Anygma. “Flattery is the highest form of flattery.”

Despite persistent judgment from those outside the scene, Anygma said that Filipino hip-hop is bigger than ever. Being a “hip-hop guy” is now cool.

As per FlipTop’s role in the scene today, Anygma said: “Ask everyone else. It’s not for me to say anymore.”

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When KOSO returned to his hometown of Yangon in Myanmar last February, the city looked very different from what he expected. Two years had passed since the military coup that deposed former leader Aung San Suu Kyi and replaced her with Senior General Min Aung Hlaing, plunging the Myanmar capital into waves of protests and repression, worsening an economic recession spearheaded by the COVID-19 pandemic. While the London-based guitarist found that Yangon had embraced a sense of normalcy again amid a few power outages here and there, he wasn’t expecting an exciting nightlife, instead bracing for a quiet time back in his homeland.

“Before the coup [and the pandemic], the nightlife scene in Yangon was almost entirely dominated by mainstream Electronic Dance Music (EDM),” KOSO recalled. “There was only one nightclub dedicated to techno music, [called Level 2]. Beyond that, were the occasional festivals sponsored by foreign alcohol companies, such as Heineken; that was pretty much all the electronic music Yangon had to offer.”

In the heat of the party at Red Room. Photo: Thaw Zin Hein

However, once the pandemic and military coup struck the country, foreigners and expats exited the country en masse, leaving a significant void in Yangon’s already narrow electronic music scene. As health restrictions eased, and the brutality of the military takeover turned into the mundanity of life under the junta, many local artists saw an opportunity to reclaim the underground scene, much to KOSO’s surprise.

Departing from big international headliners and the bottle service culture that characterized Yangon’s nightlife pre-pandemic, this growing community is now exposing a new generation of ravers to harder, more experimental sounds, and the intrinsically revolutionary political history that comes with techno music.

Inspired by the momentum, KOSO decided he wanted to contribute to the movement. Inspired by the underground techno scene of London where he studied and picked up his moniker, the young man repurposed the third floor of the bar-restaurant owned by his family, turning it into a venue for underground music. Thus Red Room was born.

After just five months, the venue has grown to become one of the most popular in Yangon’s burgeoning underground scene, which grew from the KTV culture that emerged at the height of lockdowns in the capital, when patrons would wait out curfew hours by renting large karaoke rooms. “There’s a real sense of community that formed at that time around nightlife and existing outside curfew [and lockdown],” KOSO told VICE, citing this as a shared characteristic with Red Room.

Red Room quickly grew to become a major player in Yangon’s underground scene. Photo: Thaw Zin Hein

The venue quickly expanded to host techno parties, building on the founder’s dream to provide a meeting ground for local techno acts and former Level 2 regulars, and becoming home to two recurring parties: Underworld for harder, industrial beats, and Cosmic Bodies for trance music. While KOSO runs Red Room entirely by himself, he also opened the door to resident DJs, a step toward consolidating the underground community he envisions.

Martin, known in the scene as UNKNW, became Red Room’s main resident act after sending KOSO the debut track he had produced. Hailing from a public relations background, the young man quit his corporate job after two years to dedicate his time to music production. “After the coup, EDM in Myanmar shifted backwards,” he said, as a result of the sudden departure of foreign patrons. Even when those big nightclubs reopened, UNKNW sought to escape what he described as the “corruption of the mainstream nightlife scene” as a result of patrons’ harsh drug use in the open.

“I started researching independent parties that still emphasized the music and the spirit of rave, and encountered Red Room via their Instagram feature,” he added. Around the same time, UNKNW was producing his first hard techno track, a genre that he said remains largely unexplored in the Myanmar music scene, which he ended up releasing on a Berlin label.

Red Room epitomizes an independent party that emphasizes the music and spirit of the rave. Photo: Thaw Zin Hein

UNKNW contrasts the “lack of ideology played by DJs at EDM clubs” in Myanmar with the kind of techno music that characterizes Red Room: “Techno is revolutionary at its core, it has very clear socio-political roots and a history driven by oppressed societies,” a background he compared with the mundanity of life under the military over the past two years.

According to him, ravers’ newfound appreciation for harder music should be situated in this context, citing a pressing desire for escapism: “[Yangon] youths are facing an economic repression and a political crisis, and techno provides a unique opportunity for escapism made possible by the community formed around the genre.”

This sense of community is strengthened by the growing diversity within Yangon’s underground movement, something that further distinguishes this scene from mainstream clubs. Lalit, a frequent Red Room collaborator, is one of the city’s few openly queer acts exploring the realms of transgender and non-binary identities, which remain largely untapped in Yangon’s nightlife and artistic scene. “Most of the local queer community caters to gay men. There’s only one gay club in Yangon, but it’s more for drag shows rather than the showcasing of music as a form of art,” they explained.

Nights out at Red Room. Photo: THAW ZIN HEIN

The New York-raised artist, who used to frequently visit relatives in Myanmar before relocating to the capital over a year ago, noticed a strong contrast in the country’s queer community before and after Myanmar’s military, the Tatmadaw, took over, saying there used to be a bigger queer community active in Yangon, “but the coup set everything back in terms of social structures, infrastructure, and overall quality of living.” They also pointed to a “backward culture when it comes to gender expression” that makes challenging gender norms in Myanmar difficult, even in Yangon, which is one of the more progressive cities in the country.

Upon settling in Yangon, Lalit saw the rising underground movement as an opportunity to challenge patriarchal norms through community building and music production. Echoing UNKNW’s words, Lalit believes much of the scene’s current traction can be owed to an urge to escape daily life: “People here need outlets, more ways to make meaningful connections with each other. There’s a lot of pent-up rage in locals and harder music can provide an outlet for difficult emotions.”

They also pointed to the unique struggle and success of sustaining this scene in light of restricted tourism, which makes it nearly impossible to attract foreigners. “It's easier to cater to wealthier people from overseas, but this scene is blossoming without any Western influence,” they said. “This is a unique aspect of the scene in Yangon that makes it more authentic and appealing, not just a carbon copy of scenes in other cities,” particularly at a time when other underground scenes in Southeast Asia are benefiting from tourism to grow interconnected.

Yangon’s underground scene has grown without the help of foreigners. Photo: Thaw Zin Hein

Nonetheless, the departure of foreigners allowed many local artists and collectives to reconnect with Yangon’s party scene and help the crowds develop a taste for the various genres of electronic music. This opportunity is what inspired the creation of Groove Culture, Myanmar’s leading music collective dedicated to house and techno music. Formed by five friends who met at Level 2 parties in pre-coup Yangon, the collective aims to expose crowds to house music and cultivate appreciation for the genre.

Sarvu, one of the collective’s founding members, spoke to VICE on how the coup was a catalyst for the emergence of Groove Culture: “There used to be a small EDM scene, but it was heavily saturated by foreigners. Locals didn’t necessarily care about the music, they mostly followed the big parties and festivals.” He situated Groove Culture’s mission in this context, citing a desire to educate local crowds on how to appreciate the diversity of electronic music.

While the local scene remains small, Sarvu emphasized that it’s driven by a sense of community and mutual support, and describes KOSO’s project as a much-needed venue for collectives seeking a proper music community for their parties. “Finding venues has been a considerable challenge because the [12 to 4 a.m.] curfew makes it hard to host during that prime time frame,” he said. The curfew and other restrictions prevent underground acts from using open-space venues that used to host large-scale foreign-sponsored EDM festivals. KTV bars and nightclubs, such as Red Room, therefore become the next best available option.

Attendees are then faced with accessibility issues, with most raves charging around 20,900 kyat ($10) for entry, which is a significant cost to many considering Myanmar’s minimum wage of 4,800 kyat ($2.67).

Red Room is a much-needed venue for collectives who don’t have the physical space to host their events. Photo: Thaw Zin Hein

In spite of these challenges, Sarvu remains hopeful that, as the collective grows, they’ll be able to host bigger events, catering to a crowd that’s slowly starting to appreciate more underground sounds, particularly house music: “We’ve attracted a more diverse crowd than in our Level 2 days, with more young professionals attending your events, not just students anymore.” He shared plans to soon host an underground rave festival, a project he hopes can cement the community that’s building around Groove Culture and the other collectives in Yangon’s underworld.

While the new normal in Yangon has undeniably taken a toll on the local population, particularly the city’s youths, the sounds that resonate within the walls of Red Room provide a glimpse into how a community can form in the face of adversity and contribute to building safer, more inclusive spaces, one beat at a time.

Nights out at Red Room. Photo: Thaw Zin Hein

Follow Robin Vochelet on Twitter and Instagram.

Korean culture—known as Hallyu—has dominated popular culture for the past half-decade, but the best Korean movies have been a core part of the global arthouse cinema circle for far longer than that. That being said, even some of the most lauded, arguably historical Korean movies have only made their mark recently in the West. In the early 2000s, around the same time Oldboy cracked the global box office, critics looked back through the years of Korean cinema they had missed, discovering directors like Kim Ki-young and Yu Hyun-mok. Now, the heavyweights are instantly recognizable: Bong Joon-ho of Parasite fame, of course; Park Chan-wook, the character behind Oldboy and other lethal, romantic classics.

The Korean movie website Korean Screen surveyed 158 critics from 28 countries, asking them which movies from Korea they considered to be the best of all time. You can check out the full list of 100 here, and see what they opted for as the top 10 below.

10. Aimless Bullet (1961)

In a portrayal of post-war Korea, two hapless brothers—trying their best to support their ill mother and sister, the latter forced to turn to sex work—confront a society stacked against them with devastating consequences.

9. Peppermint Candy (1999)

A tale told in reverse, this Lee Chang-dong-directed film plots the path taken by a suicidal man up to the fateful moment when he prepares to take his own life, showing us the dark events that led him there.

8. Poetry (2010)

Also directed by Lee Chang-dong, this labyrinthine story is about a woman developing early on-set Alzheimers and joining a poetry reading class to maintain her brain power. All the while, a violent family drama involving her grandson slips into her life. The combination of her disease and this disaster cause chaos.

7. The Housemaid (1960)

Another 60s classic, Korean Screen says this film “changed a nation’s cinema forever.” This story, about a composer who hires a housemaid to help him care for his pregnant wife, is shaped by its Hitchcockian tinges.

6. Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter… and Spring (2003)

Following an apprentice Buddhist and his sage master, this film about the universal experience of the human condition breaks itself down into stages, traversing us, the viewer, through the seasons of life.

5. The Handmaiden (2016)

A modern classic from Park Chan-wook, this 1930s-set film follows the complex relationship between a handmaiden and a Japanese heiress living in occupied Korea. A brazen and decadent queer masterpiece.

4. Oldboy (2003)

Another Park Chan-wook hit, his international breakout Oldboy is a smart and violent revenge tale, about a man who—when he is finally freed from 15 years of confinement—sets out to inflict his wrath on those who wronged him.

3. Memories of Murder (2003)

Based on the Hwaseong serial murders in the 80s and 90s, this movie—Bong Joon-ho’s sophomore film—sees three detectives gather together to solve the case of a serial killer sweeping South Korea.

2. Parasite (2019)

The famed Oscar-winner responsible for reigniting an interest in Korean culture in the West, Bong Joon-ho’s film about a breadline family quietly infiltrating a wealthy family’s home remains one of the most lauded in movie history—period.

1. Burning (2018)

Lee Chang-dong adapted this Haruki Murakami short story for the screen, turning it into a two-and-a-half-hour sprawling epic. This film starts simply: a man runs into a woman who once lived in his neighborhood. She’s leaving town for a while and asks him to care for her cat. But when she returns, she comes with an enigmatic new love interest, whose hobby changes the shared trajectory of their lives forever.

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Swift is arguably one of the biggest pop stars of all time. Last year, she became the first artist to claim the entire Top 10 on the Billboard Hot 100 in the United States when she released her album, Midnights, surpassing The Beatles’ 1964 record when they secured the Top 5 spots of the same chart. She just shattered a new record following her re-release of Speak Now (Taylor’s Version), claiming four spots in the Billboard 200, with each song coming from a different album. And people are going absolutely bonkers about the Asian leg of her The Eras Tour, with 22 million pre-registering for tickets and 300,000 tickets sold out in just hours. 

But Swift and I have a complicated relationship. Being nearly the same age, I pretty much grew up with her. Every new boyfriend, album drop, and Kanye drama felt like gossip from my high school grapevine. And like many people I went to high school with (all-girls, Catholic), I didn’t always like her.

It might have just been a matter of taste because I grew up listening to emo, side-swept my bangs, and wore black eyeliner. So when she came out with “You Belong With Me” and all she did was wear black, thick-rimmed glasses to come off as dorky, I wasn’t impressed. 

I also didn’t consider her work as “serious music.” She’s good but she’s no vocal powerhouse. Her lyrics are deceptively simple, her tunes follow tried-and-tested pop formulas, and her biggest hits are always about love or heartbreak over yet another failed relationship with some high-profile artist, which made me dismiss her as vapid and boy-obsessed. I barely knew her, but I credited her success not to her talent, but to her stereotypical white features and privileged family background (which, to be fair, are probably factors, but who am I to say).

I viewed every memorable Swift moment after that with this lens, from the 2009 MTV Music Awards incident to the debut of her 2017 comeback single “Look What You Made Me Do” (which I recently found out in the course of writing this that it sampled the chorus of “I’m Too Sexy”). 

But I changed my tune by the time her single “Lover” came out in 2019. I was 28 then and had already gone through some of my canon moments (scathed). I listened to her performance of the song on the Live Lounge and I thought to myself—this is actually pretty good. 

So, what changed? 

Suffice to say both Swift and I had gone through the motions in the last decade or so. I might have dismissed my younger self’s dislike for her as a product of my insecurities. She wore short skirts while I sat on the bleachers. But now that I’m older, I realize that my dislike for Taylor Swift wasn’t a matter of taste, but ingrained misogyny. 

Growing up, I was reared to have feminine qualities and interests but taught to be ashamed of them. I remember Christmases when I got dolls and miniature houses while my cousins got toy guns. They wouldn’t let me play with them until my parents gave me a toy gun, too, because it’s OK for a girl to shoot imaginary bullets but not for a boy to pretend to clean the house. I could tell by my cousins’ eye rolls that they only included me in their games as a favor.

I remember playing video games like Tekken or Mortal Kombat. I always chose to play a woman, though the choices were scarce as was their clothing. So while they volleyed through Raiden, Sub-Zero, or Johnny Cage, I played Sonya again. It’s a man’s world, and unless I was scantily clad, I was just taking up (blank) space. 

I remember the music. They listened to “serious musicians,” like Led Zeppelin, Gorillaz, or Red Hot Chili Peppers, all fronted by men; some threatened by women. John Bonham, the drummer of Led Zeppelin, once raged that Karen Carpenter “couldn’t last 10 minutes with a Zeppelin number” when she ranked first in a Playboy 1975 “Best Drummer” poll, just above him. Last year, Gorillaz frontman Damon Albarn claimed that Swift doesn’t write her own songs in an interview with the Los Angeles Times. 

It’s not just feminine-presenting musicians who are undermined by the industry, it’s also artists with a primarily female fan base. BTS, for instance, is often referred to as a boy band, made famous by an army of mindless tweens. This makes them the butt of many a music critic’s joke. But judging fandoms, and subsequently, an artist by their fandom, is ageist and misogynistic, as one author puts it. It assumes that women and girls have no taste in music; they’re just suckers for catchy beats and allured by handsome men. 

Let’s not forget that The Beatles, one of the biggest and most influential bands of all time, is often compared to the likes of BTS and Swift. And not just because the latter have also reached meteoric levels of fame and success, but also—as my friends at our Taylor Swift listening party pointed out—built their careers on their own gaggle of tween fans. (Paul McCartney told News18 that he likes to “follow the fame and fandom that BTS goes through” because it reminds him of his own time.) 

I was programmed from a very young age to reject feminine qualities and interests because they were less. Women were weaker, domestic, and not to be taken seriously. I wanted to be taken seriously, so I chose to align with what’s traditionally male. See: she’s not like other girls.

That was, until, I stopped calling Taylor Swift songs a guilty pleasure. 

Before I go on, let’s get this straight—Swift is not the perfect embodiment of feminism. Her brand of it is still primarily white and privileged, and she’s guilty of emanating pick-me-girl energy. And remember when she snorted weed at a party and died instantly? Oops, sorry, that’s Becky. 

But what stoked my feminist awakening was the understanding that femininity is strength. And Swift’s presence in mainstream media as a woman who isn’t afraid to cry (“Teardrops On My Guitar”), admit she’s wonderstruck (“Enchanted”), or be vulnerable (“Anti-Hero”) in front of the world is more feminist a stand than singles like “The Man” (which was a little too on-the-nose and, let’s be real, should have been sung “if I were a man”). Her songs feel authentic in that they sound like music she likes, rather than what pretentious boomers might deem worth listening to.

She never stopped writing about love and heartbreak even when every breakup turned into a joke about her next album. She wore red lipstick like a statement; feminine defiance. And even when the world seemed to turn its back on her, she just made another album and shook it off. 

So I guess karma really is her boyfriend because now she’s buying out all her old songs and I’m attending Taylor Swift listening parties. 

As a hater-turned-fan, embracing Taylor Swift marks my coming to terms with my femininity. Because while I’ve always considered myself a feminist, I had a skewed perception of what that looked like. Now I know that being delicate, innocent, or bejeweled is not a bad thing, and this is my way of speaking out (Taylor’s Version). 

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The painter’s name was Juan Luna, and his award-winning painting was entitled Hymen, oh Hyménée! or Boda Romana (Roman Wedding). With oil on canvas, it depicts a bride being showered with flowers by women, children, and men in a lavish atrium. It has been described as ethereal, joyous, and majestic. 

After the fair, the renowned Luna kept the painting in his private collection, where it remained until his death in 1899. Its whereabouts became unknown after that. Images of the painting could be found in books and lithographs of it were even sold at auctions, but nobody could see it in its entirety again. Until one day in 2014, when an art dealer was invited to a noble European family’s home. There, the art dealer saw, and purchased, the fabled painting. 

Just last month, and for the first time in 134 years, Luna’s long-lost Hymen, oh Hyménée! was unveiled to the public, in a museum in Manila, Philippines. 

“A painting of love”

Luna is considered one of the greatest painters in Philippine history. He left the country to study Fine Arts in Madrid, won critical acclaim and awards around Europe, and was even commissioned by the King of Spain to create La Batalla de Lepanto (The Battle of Lepanto, a large canvas of ships at war). Many of his paintings were decidedly dark, depicting tragic moments in history such as the death of Cleopatra (La Muerte de Cleopatra) and defeated gladiators thrown in the basement of the Roman Colosseum after combat (Spoliarium).

“But this painting, the Hymen, oh Hyménée!, is a painting of happiness, it’s a painting of love,” Jaime Ponce de Leon, the man who found the long-lost piece, told VICE.

Luna worked on the painting while he and his wife, Paz Pardo de Tavera, were honeymooning in the halcyon years of his career. According to Ponce de Leon, the painting is Luna putting forth all the best things happening to him at the time. But that happiness did not last. Luna and Pardo de Tavera’s relationship ended in his murdering her, along with her mother, in a fit of jealous rage. 

According to Ponce de Leon, the piece is filled with symbolism. There is an almost-missable turtle, for example, which some take to be the artist’s depiction of himself in his own wedding. 

“There’s still much information to decode from the painting,” said Ponce de Leon. The title, for instance, invites plenty of interpretation. Some say it’s a shoddy French translation of “marriage or wedding.” Others think it refers to Hymenaeus, the ancient Greek god of marriage, who is said to have been invoked by chant and song, as a bride made her way to the bridegroom’s chamber. “I’m sure the painting will still say so much stories in the course of many years,” Ponce de Leon said.

When the painting disappeared after Luna’s death, nobody could be sure it was in good condition. Some posited that the family of his wife had burned it after Luna killed her and her mother. Others figured it was destroyed in one of the wars. In any case, it had disappeared, and people only knew what it looked like from monochromatic prints or hand-colored lithographs. 

A matter of luck and timing 

Ponce de Leon is the founder and director of León Gallery, a fine art gallery and auction house in Manila, Philippines. He’s known as a dealer and auctioneer with a specialty in Philippine art. He had always known of Hymen, oh Hyménée!. But in 2007, when prolific collector Eleuterio “Teyet” Pascual told Ponce de Leon that he had seen the painting himself some 30 years earlier, the gallery founder became certain the painting still existed in good condition.

“He described to me the beauty of this painting,” said Ponce de Leon. “But he never told me where it was.”

At the time, Ponce de Leon was just beginning his career and did not see the need to press Pascual, who passed away in 2012, for the exact whereabouts of the painting. The idea of actually finding the painting remained “far-off” in Ponce de Leon’s mind. But retracing Luna’s steps, he befriended as many noble and “titled” families around Madrid and Paris as he could. When the opportunities presented themselves, he told them of his interest in the painting. It was by meeting people and telling them of his search that he thinks the “seeds were planted” for the painting’s eventual repatriation. 

One day in 2014, he received a call from an old friend, calling on behalf of a noble family. The friend invited him to be at the family’s doorstep, somewhere in Europe, at ten in the morning, leaving no clues about what he might find in the home. Ponce de Leon would not reveal where the house was or who owned it, just that he found himself outside what he described as a beautiful home at the agreed time.

“After being brought to the drawing room and exchanging a few pleasantries with the master of the house, he signaled to his butler to open the drapes,” Ponce de Leon said. Little by little, the long-lost Hymen, oh Hyménée! was revealed. “Wow, I could not believe it.”

“It needed a bang, a bonanza”  

The art world, of course, is no stranger to forgeries and scams. In 1995, for example, the Knoedler Gallery, the oldest gallery in New York, under the direction of Ann Freedman, purchased over 60 canvases allegedly made by artists like Rothko and Pollock that were eventually proven to be fakes. 

But Ponce de Leon told a local news outlet that the surviving documents for Hymen, oh Hyménée! confirmed its authenticity. The craquelure of the painting, he said, is consistent with its age. It took three years to authenticate the connoisseurship and provenance and complete the deal.  

“For collectors and people in the trade, connoisseurship plays a very important role. You feel the work. You see its colors. You see the Luna impasto and bravura. You check all the boxes and make sure nothing is fishy,” Ponce de Leon said. 

An avid collector, it was the father of the family who had acquired the painting sometime around the 1920s and 1930s, Ponce de Leon said. It is difficult to ascertain, he added, if the family was the painting’s first owner after Luna’s death. But it was likely Andrés Luna, Luna’s son, who sold it, as he was studying in Barcelona and traveling around Madrid and Paris at the time.

Ponce de Leon would not disclose how much it cost, but said that the painting is the single most expensive piece of art he has ever purchased for his collection. “When you pay high for priceless, you’re getting it cheap,” he said.

The painting was hidden in Ponce de Leon’s storage for six years before it was put on display. Even the employees of his gallery did not know what it was. “I just didn’t want to open it and put it on my wall, and have people see it, not knowing what it was. I always felt that It needed a bang, a bonanza,” he said.

Late last year, representatives of the Ayala Museum in Manila, Philippines, approached Ponce de Leon with the idea of a fundraising event for a foundation. They had no idea he had the long-lost Luna in his possession. Instead of finding a bunch of other pieces to display or sell, Ponce de Leon felt it was time to unveil the painting.

Hymen, oh Hyménée! was unveiled to the public, for the first time in over a century, on June 12 of this year, the Philippines’ 125th Independence Day.

“We Filipinos know that Luna is the greatest Filipino artist. Perhaps not only from the 19th century but in our history. He gave us so much honor. He got so much acclaim for his virtuosity and mastery of painting that every Filipino is proud of his accomplishment. I think it is always an honor, a great privilege to own a Luna, and to see Luna in our museums is always something big,” said Ponce de Leon. 

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Botulinum toxin is a drug derived from bacteria present in places like forests and lakes and the intestinal tracts of mammals and fish. Doctors use it to temporarily paralyze muscles, which helps with reducing skin wrinkles as well as treating conditions like eyelid spasms and migraines. The drug often comes under the brand names Botox, Dysport, Xeomin, or Jeuveau—although the first has become the go-to term for it, like Band-Aid for bandages or Kleenex for tissues. For the purposes of this story, “Botox” refers to the drug in general. 

Worldwide, over 264 million people suffer from depression, which the World Health Organization characterized as persistent sadness and a lack of interest or pleasure in rewarding or enjoyable activities. There are psychological and pharmacological treatments for the condition, but some studies have shown that these aren’t effective for nearly one-third of patients. This has inspired the search for alternative treatments, including psilocybin, ketamine, and Botox.

Alternative and available treatments can be particularly important for certain locales. Botox and other cosmetic procedures are on the rise in Asia, for example, while discussions around mental health continue to be stigmatized in the Philippines and other countries. Using Botox to treat depression could make getting help easier for many. If it works. 

“I simply did not believe that a cosmetic treatment could have such profound antidepressant results. As such, I got into this research to refute the original findings,” psychiatrist Michelle Magid, who has written extensively about the antidepressant effects of Botox, told VICE. “I was completely surprised when my study findings mirrored the original findings.”

Since the 2006 study, several randomized, double-blind, and placebo-controlled studies by Magid and other researchers seem to confirm the antidepressant effects of the drug. This has led Magid and her colleagues to claim that Botox is a ready-to-use tool for managing depression. But these studies have been critiqued for their small sample sizes (ranging from 28 to 74 patients) and their inability to control placebo in the experiments (partly because the subjects could observe the obvious muscle-relaxing effects of Botox injections). 

Another reason the drug hasn’t quite taken off as a means to treat depression is that experts aren’t sure how it works. 

A little less frowning, a little less sadness 

Botox is perhaps best known for its cosmetic applications. That makes one theory pretty obvious: Looking good makes people feel better. Magid explained that while this might be true in general, it’s not the leading theory as to why Botox helps with depression. She cited a 2009 study that compared the moods of people who received Botox in the forehead with the moods of people who received glycolic peels, laser treatments, fillers, Botox in other areas, and other cosmetic treatments. The study showed that the Botox patients had less irritability, anxiety, and depression than those who received the other cosmetic treatments. Another study Magid conducted with her colleagues in 2016 showed that Botox patients with a more robust response to the drug (i.e. fewer wrinkles after the treatment), did not necessarily have the biggest improvement in mood.

Instead, the leading theory is what experts call the “facial feedback hypothesis,” which states that the movements and expressions of one’s face can influence one’s emotions. Basically, smiling can make you happier and frowning can make you sadder.

“The leading idea is that Botox reduces depression because it reduces frowning,” said Jeff Larsen, a social psychologist. “But our research tells us that [the] effects of emotional expressions on emotional experiences like sadness are very weak.”

In 2019, Larsen and his colleagues, Nicholas Coles and Heather Lench, published a study reviewing around 50 years of data, including the results of nearly 300 experiments testing the facial feedback theory. It showed that the effects of facial movements on felt emotions were “significant but small.”

Another theory for how Botox in the forehead works as an antidepressant is that it calms the amygdala, which is the part of the brain that is activated in trauma, fear, and depression, and is responsible for processing fearful or threatening stimuli. MRI studies have shown decreased amygdala activity after Botox injections in the forehead. The researchers wrote that this could theoretically lead to improvements in mood and reactions to negative stimuli. 

“I suppose one theoretical risk is that our fear response would be reduced and we too may not invoke the appropriate flight or fight response to dangerous situations,” said Magid, who added that the risk is not something to be too worried about. “The decreased amygdala activity that we see after Botox injections is similar to the decreased activity that we see after antidepressant treatment. I think we're calming a hypervigilant amygdala, which is probably a good thing.”

Botox may also influence the way people, with or without depression, process other people’s emotions. When people see another face, they unconsciously mimic the expression on that face. This helps them identify and, to an extent, feel the emotion that the other person is experiencing. A small study published this year found that because the drug paralyzes certain muscles when injected into areas of the face, it also prevents patients from unconsciously mimicking, and therefore identifying and understanding, other people’s facial expressions. 

Magid said this may be beneficial for people with depression because they sometimes misread the facial expressions of others. A neutral face is perceived as angry or sad. A face that’s actually angry or sad can be overwhelming for people with depression, Magid said. In theory, Botox can help patients more accurately interpret other people’s facial cues. But this could also mean that happy or other positive facial cues can appear less happy or positive to people with Botox in their faces, making their own reactions less happy or positive. 

It’s not all in your head 

Ruben Abagyan, a professor at the Skaggs School of Pharmacy and Pharmaceutical Sciences at the University of California, San Diego, said that the antidepressant effects of Botox aren’t about frowns or forehead wrinkles, “since even injections into limbs have a comparable effect.”

In 2020, Abagyan published a study that he said proved that the beneficial effects of Botox don’t depend on the site of injection. The study analyzed over 40,000 Botox treatment reports, including those of patients who received Botox to treat hyperhidrosis, facial wrinkles, migraine prophylaxis, spasticity, and spasms. Those patients had a significantly lower number of depression reports compared to patients who had different treatments for the same conditions. 

“I believe that Botox is a good candidate to be studied further for its likely antidepressive effects. However, it needs to be evaluated within the context of other emerging therapies and our understanding of depression subtypes, combinations with existing treatments, a balance between beneficial and adverse effects of each type of treatment,” said Abagyan.

Magid has recommended Botox to some of her patients with depression, particularly to those who cannot tolerate other medications or those who require other treatment strategies. Besides Botox, she also recommends these patients non-medication options, like psychotherapy, lifestyle changes, and transcranial magnetic stimulation. 

“In patients who are good candidates, I usually go over the risks and benefits, and then I print out a picture of the Botox injection configuration, to give it to their dermatologist. I tell them that their dermatologist can call me with any questions,” said Magid.

For her, using Botox to treat depression is a low-risk procedure. The main risks, she said, are eyelid drooping, which is rare in experienced injectors; the cost, as each treatment costs about $400 to $500, and people may get three to four treatments a year; and that the treatment may not work. Other risks of Botox include swelling, bruising, or infections at the injection site, and headaches or flu-like symptoms. The drug may sometimes spread to other parts of the body, where it could cause muscle weakness, vision or breathing problems, or allergic reactions. Some experts fear that bad Botox reactions are severely under-reported and have called for tighter regulation around the substance. 

Magid said that treatments for any condition warrant scrutiny and larger clinical trials before they become widely accepted. Larsen has helped provide much of the scrutiny against Botox as a treatment for depression.

Raising eyebrows 

Also in 2019, Larsen and his colleagues published a meta-analysis of studies around the use of Botox to treat depression. A meta-analysis is basically a study of studies, and Larsen’s meta-analysis included the studies of Magid and other researchers. 

“Our meta-analysis tells us that the published literature overestimates Botox’s effectiveness—so much so that it’s not even clear whether Botox has any effect at all. We’re not saying it has no effect. We’re just saying that the evidence isn’t conclusive,” Larsen said.

For Larsen, the conclusion that Botox is an effective treatment for depression is simply premature. He said that the clinical trials that provide the most valid evaluations of a treatment’s effect on any condition are those with the largest number of patients. While the studies published on Botox as a treatment for depression may show marked improvements in their patients, Larsen said there needs to be more clinical trials with larger sample sizes to make any conclusions. Until those are available, he said experts must proceed with caution. 

Medicine, Larsen said, isn’t magic. There has to be a mechanism by which any treatment helps an ailment. It’s one thing that experts don’t know exactly how Botox works as a treatment for depression. But Botox may also only be a skin-deep solution. 

“Clinical depression is far, far more than just being really sad. Feelings of depression—the painful conscious experience of it—are the symptom, not the cause. It’s not at all clear to us how Botox could hit the underlying causes of depression,” said Larsen. “Even if the inability to frown makes someone less sad, how could it ease their feelings of inadequacy or tendency to interpret everything in the worst way possible, not to mention the neurochemical imbalances that are all wrapped up with those cognitive distortions?”

Larsen said that everyone wants more effective treatments for depression, and it would be great if something as simple as Botox could be helpful. People should not go looking for a “magic bullet” to treat the condition, and Botox may never replace psychotherapy and psychopharmacology, but more rigorous research that proves its effectiveness may merit adding it to the mix of tools people use to assuage suffering. 

Magid shared the sentiments. 

“As a scientist, I’m always going to push for more research,” she said. “I'm eager to see more studies done on 'Botox for depression' as a novel intervention.  We need more tools in our toolbox to combat the prevalent and deadly disease.”

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According to people raving about it on the internet, magnesium can assist in everything from coping with anxiety and inducing deep sleep to getting better workouts. All of those are timeless human concerns, but anesthesiologist Zain Hasan told VICE that part of the reason magnesium supplements have become so popular nowadays is that COVID-19 made people more aware of their health.

Vitamin D is said to reduce the severity of COVID-19, but low magnesium levels makes vitamin D ineffective. The pandemic also highlighted the need to reduce stress and anxiety, which magnesium is known to help do. Magnesium supplements are nothing new, but Hasan said the recent focus on taking control of one’s own health has made the mineral more popular.

Another factor contributing to magnesium’s recent popularity is social media. On TikTok, videos with the hashtag #magnesium have over 690 million views, while those with the hashtag #magnesiumdeficiency have over 277 million views. 

“TikTok's influence in swiftly disseminating information has played a significant role in raising awareness about the benefits of magnesium supplementation,” pharmacist and functional nutritionist Ariana Medizade told VICE.

But Joseph Salhab, a physician with specializations in gastroenterology and internal medicine, said that the popularity of magnesium is not just a passing trend. 

“Magnesium is an essential mineral and its importance is well-established,” said Salhab. “Its appeal is that it's natural and needed by the body. However, like any health trend, it is essential to approach magnesium supplementation with a balanced perspective.”

What is magnesium?

According to the experts VICE spoke to, magnesium is a mineral that plays a crucial role in a slew of processes in the human body, including nerve transmission, muscle contractions, the formation of proteins, and blood sugar regulation. It also helps with mental health by regulating mood and stress. 

How much magnesium a person needs varies depending on things like sex, age, and specific health conditions, but Salhab said the average is somewhere around 320 and 420 milligrams of the mineral per day for women and men respectively.

What does magnesium do?

According to the experts VICE spoke to, magnesium can help with a whole bunch of things—muscle function, migraines, sugar control in diabetics, blood pressure and heart health, constipation, nerve function, bone health, energy production, and insomnia and sleep quality. But experts warned that plenty of these effects are modest, and people shouldn’t rely too heavily on the mineral to cure severe conditions nor replace proper diets and stress management. 

“[Magnesium is] certainly not a magic pill and you should be cautious if you see [it] advertised for dramatic energy boosting, weight loss, anti-aging, and miracle cure-all effects,” said Salhab. 

There are also risks to taking magnesium supplements. Salhab said these can include nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, and abdominal cramps. The mineral can have negative effects when it interacts with certain medications, like antibiotics and medications for heart conditions, too. People with impaired kidney functions should be especially cautious with magnesium supplements, because accumulating high doses of the mineral in the body can lead to several complications, like an irregular heartbeat and severe muscle weakness. 

Do you have to take supplements to get magnesium?

Much if not all of the recommended intake of magnesium can be obtained from a diet with leafy vegetables, nuts, fish, or milk. But experts say magnesium deficiency is still a relatively common problem.

“It is ascertained that magnesium content in fruits and vegetables dropped in the last fifty years, and about 80 percent of this metal is lost during food processing. As a consequence, a large percentage of people all over the world does not meet the minimum daily magnesium requirement,” wrote researchers in a 2020 study. 

Magnesium deficiency over long periods of time may have negative effects on brain function, bone density, muscle and nerve function, and the digestive system. In younger people, it may prevent bone growth. In older people, it may increase the risk of osteoporosis and bone fractures.

What type of magnesium should you take? 

There are several types of magnesium, each used for different purposes, and some more readily absorbed by the body than others. Of course, it’s best to avoid magnesium types that aren’t easily absorbed by the body or don’t do what you want them to do.

For example, magnesium glycinate helps calm the nervous system, promotes relaxation and sleep, and promotes a sense of calm. Medizade, the pharmacist and functional nutritionist, said that this is best for people with anxiety or trouble sleeping, but can be used for most of the issues people take magnesium for, including headaches, constipation, muscle spasms, and fatigue. Magnesium L-threonate is commonly used for brain health and cognitive support because it crosses the blood-brain barrier the best, said Medizade, adding that it’s good to take this type of magnesium during the day because it doesn’t necessarily make you feel relaxed or sleepy. Magnesium oxide is commonly used for migraines, but its bioavailability is low, so your body can’t absorb as much of it. Magnesium sulfate is absorbed through the skin and is used in bath salts or foot soaks. Medizade said it’s ideal for people who want to relieve soreness or muscle tension, but shouldn’t be used if you’re fresh from a shave—it will burn your skin.

Knowing the type of magnesium you want is one thing, choosing the actual supplement is another.  

“Ensure you choose supplements that are crafted by reputable companies and follow rigorous quality control protocols. Carefully inspect the list of additional ingredients to ensure the absence of any unnecessary fillers, additives, or potential allergens,” Salhab said. 

How do you take magnesium?

How often and at what time of day it’s best to take a magnesium supplement also depends on a person’s needs and the type of magnesium.

Medizade advised taking a supplement the way it’s indicated on the bottle. If you were to take a magnesium supplement daily, Salhab said taking it at the same time every day helps maintain steady levels of the mineral in the body. Many people take their magnesium supplements in the evening due to their calming properties. Magnesium can also be taken with or without food, though some types (like glycinate) are better absorbed alongside a meal. People with sensitive stomachs can also choose to take their magnesium with food to reduce the risk of stomach upset. 

A final word of advice 

Magnesium supplements are pretty well-tolerated, but all supplements come with caveats. Salhab had a final bit of advice for anyone taking or looking to take magnesium. 

“Research the best formulation for what you're trying to achieve. Choose a quality product. Follow the recommended dosages. Monitor your body's response. Be patient and consistent. Prioritize other lifestyle factors that contribute to overall health, such as a balanced diet, regular exercise, stress management, and adequate sleep. Temper expectations. And always consult with a healthcare professional.”

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Snug is a place to get comfortable. Photo: Tonya Dzyubenko

Snug is a queer club night that, according to its Instagram bio, is home to the city’s “fabulous, dancers, kissers, homos, queers, posers, [and] bitches.” Their first party was in 2016, not long after the opening of their home club, Savage. There have been over 50 Snug nights since, and the fun is showing no signs of slowing down. This month’s edition welcomed around 600 people. For many, it’s the one time in the city they feel comfortable letting go and being themselves.

“It’s usually the craziest party,” Ouissam, a celebrated DJ and the founder of both Snug and Savage, told VICE. “You can feel a bit more loose, more open-minded.”

Before Snug, Ouissam said the queer nightlife scene in Hanoi was a bit too serious and dull. It was thirsty for color and diversity, both in its crowd and its music, and young people had little to no affinity for it. There was a gap in the city’s nightlife—the idea was for Snug to fill that. 

Snug is the one party in the city that many feel comfortable being themselves at. Photo: Tonya Dzyubenko

The crowd at Snug is open-minded. Photo: Tonya Dzyubenko

It did so by introducing a new sound to Hanoi. Ouissam invited DJs from other queer clubs and parties around the world to bring in music that was refreshingly different from the dark and monotonous tunes in other parties in the city. According to him, the resulting sound is eclectic, fun, uplifting, groovy, but still full of surprises. This way, Snug has been able to build a new queer scene from scratch.

“The first two years were pretty hard because people did not get it,” said Ouissam. But the crowd embraced the sound pretty quickly after that.

Useph, a DJ who has played at a few Snug parties, said it’s an “elegant, immaculate, and wild party with exceptional vibes that can’t be found at any other party around.”

Useph is a techno DJ, but for Snug he plays a range of 90s house and Italo disco tracks, with some gospel house and pop hits that he doesn’t get to play anywhere else. Useph played at this month’s Snug and said it was one of the most fun gigs he’s had this year. 

Useph said this month’s Snug was one of the most fun gigs he’s had all year. Photo: Tonya Dzyubenko

“The energy is on a different level—pure love and happiness that you literally can feel in the air,” he said. 

But Snug is not just a rave.

In 2018, it opened its stage to a group of drag performers called Peach. The drag show Peach produces for Snug is now an integral part of the monthly festivities. Peach still produces other shows in other venues, but its main show is always paired with Snug. 

Snug always opens with a drag show by drag performer group Peach. Photo: Tonya Dzyubenko

Peach’s drag performers have a variety of styles and acts. Photo: Tonya Dzyubenko

Not everything is for everyone, but there is always something for everyone. Photo: Tonya Dzyubenko

The show is as eclectic and colorful as the party’s music. Peach is made up of a diverse group of performers with varying styles and acts that might not fit into other shows and venues. The group has also grown to involve not just drag but other queer performance art. AnnieTagonist aka BroTagonist, a Peach organizer and drag performer, said that not everything is for everyone, but there is always something for everyone. 

“One of the things we’ve prided ourselves on with Peach is encouraging an open queer space, not targeted toward any one demographic or audience,” she said. “We have always wanted Peach to be what the performers and audience wanted it to be. For a long time, one co-organizer described our job as ‘pointing a light at a stage, telling people about it, and seeing what happened.’”

AnnieTagonist aka BroTagonist, drag performer and organizer of Peach. Photo: Tonya Dzyubenko

If Peach’s artists are free to express themselves, so are Snug’s attendees. 

“Everyone is welcome as long as they are respectful,” said AnnieTagonist. “It is a space that allows people to express themselves in ways they may not otherwise have in their everyday lives.”

Useph shared similar sentiments. He said that while the drag performances are top-notch and the music is always on point, the most important thing about Snug is that people get to witness “the inclusivity and beauty of having people from all different backgrounds, genders, and sexual orientations getting together for a proper, quality time.” 

“As a straight male playing at a queer party, I get to pay my respect to the foundation of electronic music that I live for, as the roots of it are queer and no one should deny that,” said Useph.

This month’s Snug welcomed around 600 people. Photo: Tonya Dzyubenko

The party is home to the fabulous. Photo: Tonya Dzyubenko

Over the almost seven years that Snug has been around, it has lived up to its name and become a place where people, queer or not, can feel comfortable and cozy with themselves and with others.

It’s hard to say what about the party makes people feel that way. But as many queer people know, it’s not that some parties do anything wrong or explicitly make people feel unwelcome, uncomfortable, or unsafe—it’s just that other parties get more things right. 

“I can’t explain, but here I feel good,” is something Ouissam said a few people have told him about Snug. 

Ouissam, founder of Snug. Photo: Tonya Dzyubenko

At the end of the night, which is often well into the morning, Ouissam said the party is all about creating an atmosphere where everybody is free to be who they are and do what they want. 

“We just want you to have a good time,” he said. “Really coming and feeling this energy of I’m just gonna have a good time tonight.”

Everybody’s free to be who they are. Photo: Tonya Dzyubenko

And do what they want. Photo: Tonya Dzyubenko

People can’t explain why, but they feel good at Snug. Photo: Tonya Dzyubenko

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