A week of heavy rain has subsided, and the scent of wet grass and sun-soaked concrete is in the air, a habitual sense of just another tropical day on Tutuila Island, American Samoa. Earlier that morning, my cousin Grace had talked about her hair appointment with a newly opened salon on the east end of the island.
The owner is a Filipina woman named Bhimcee, whom we had both never met, but when Grace messaged me some of her work, I instantly recognized her face as the reigning Miss Gay Philippines. Intrigued, I rode along with Grace to her appointment to meet Bhimcee.
We arrived at a modest but unassuming location, a place that I remember from my childhood had once been a small gas station convenience shop. Inside, we were greeted by a colorful atmosphere and friendly smiles from Bhimcee’s workers, Maria, Lani, and Mikey.
About an hour later, Bhimcee arrives with her newest worker, Vina. “I help them get situated with the immigration process, and also to cut the cost of living, we all live together in a rented home,” she says. “Our aim is to be successful at what we do so that we can provide for our families back home in the Philippines.”
The business is the culmination of Bhimcee’s hopes and dreams after leaving her home seven years ago for a better life.
Bhimcee Martinez Bautista was born in Cabiao in Nueva Ecija, a province of the Philippines. She is the seventh of eight siblings. Her father was a carpenter, and her mom was a food vendor. “It was a hard life,” says Bhimcee, “But we were happy.” From a young age, Bhimcee knew in her heart she was a girl, and her parents embraced her from early on.
She recalled at six years old feeling confused and crying when wearing a boy’s uniform to school. Her mom asked the school principal to allow her to wear what she felt comfortable in, and her request was granted. At age 11, Bhimcee competed in her first competition, “Miss Thalia,” a mock pageant in honor of the Mexican entertainer Thalia.
“My mom, in her Filipino accent, said, ‘If you not win the pageant, I will fight the teacher, ok?’ And I did… I won. There was so much discrimination and bullying everywhere at the time. People used to call us ‘salot,’ meaning that we were a plague. But the love and support from my parents outweighed any hatred from the outside. Even now, it doesn’t affect me. My family respects me, and that’s enough for me to not care what anyone outside thinks of me.”
Bhimcee’s dream after graduating high school was to become a nurse, but education in the Philippines was also deemed costly. Her parents encouraged her to follow in her cousin’s footsteps and take up computer program courses. Unhappy with her new route, Bhimcee still had hopes of wearing the white nurse’s uniform.
One day, she met an old friend on the street and was in absolute awe of her new hairstyle. Soon after that encounter, Bhimcee found herself taking a completely different route in her career, one that she never planned on pursuing. In 2007, she enrolled in hair school. She began with sweeping and washing hair until finally accomplishing her goal as a senior hairstylist.
But soon, through poor influence and choices, according to Bhimcee, it spiraled her life into a world of addiction and sex work. “I stopped doing hair,” she recalls. “I saw the easy money with cybersex and the drugs that came with the territory. The Philippines was a day ahead with many parts of the world, so I needed that high to keep up with the work. I experienced everything bad. I don’t ever regret anything I did in my past. Everything good and bad were life lessons to me.”
Searching for a way out of her troubles, Bhimcee moved to live with her sister in American Samoa in 2017. While awaiting paperwork for her work ID, she found odd jobs as a caretaker, a masseuse, and a dishwasher. “When I did massaging, it was for the foreigners on the yachts and fishing boats,” Bhimcee recalls. “Sometimes eight to ten people in hour-long sessions. It was exhausting, and my fingers were all numb afterward, but I knew I needed the money.”
Following the ordeal of getting her legal documents underway, she found work in local food service. Bhimcee saved up her money and began investing in a business. “It was very hard,” she says. “I had to work like a dog to survive. When I first opened in January of 2024, it was slow, and I was at the brink of giving up. But then business began thriving.”
Her motivation in life, said Bhimcee, was always her parents. “Life in the Philippines is hard; we never owned our own house.” She added, “So I made a promise to myself when I moved to American Samoa: I want them to experience living and owning their own house.”
Bhimcee kept her promise. Not only are her parents homeowners, but on her mom’s 70th birthday, she surprised them with a car. “I don’t have a husband or kids, so I just focus on my parents. I have to live here to run my business and support them. But I feel it’s not enough. I want my hands to care for them. Five of my siblings already live here and have children born here, so I plan to relocate my parents to American Samoa soon,” she says.
Adding to her blessings, she was also crowned the winner of the first “Miss Gay Philippines” organized by the growing Filipino population of American Samoa. According to Bhimcee and her friend Vina, who is also transgender, pageants have become an avenue for trans and the gay community to be visible and accepted in the Philippines. Most villages and provinces host their own pageants. The ignorance and prejudice they experienced growing up is not as prevalent as it once was.
Bhimcee plans to open a second salon location in the near future and plans to expand her business to include an eatery and spa are already underway. Recently, she also brought her boyfriend from the Philippines. He works for her, and they both hope to endure a lasting relationship away from home.
“For those with a dream, don’t ever stop believing,” she said as we concluded our conversation. “Put your feet on the ground. And always remember the number one rule: love your parents.”
