By the time January 2026 was nearing its end, we were only just beginning. In an industry obsessed with timing, we were undeniably late for a New Year cover. But for us, arriving here took time— time to wrestle with uncertainty, to work through limitations, to believe that this story would find its moment. What appeared as a delay was, in many ways, a test of readiness.
Because some beginnings don’t announce themselves. They wait until you’re strong enough to step into them.
Awra Briguela walked through the studio doors ahead of schedule, catching us in the quiet hum of pre-production. Before the strobe lights flashed or the wardrobe changes began, we simply sat. Over coffee, in that raw, unscripted hour, we spoke of the journey, the artistry, and the weight she has carried.
It was in those quiet moments that the shoot shifted from a concept to a lived reality. This was not the Awra the public remembers. We saw a woman no longer rushing toward who she was supposed to be, but finally standing in who she is. In many ways, her story echoed our own: shaped by struggle, refined by patience, and made whole by letting go.
In that moment of collective clarity, we both say, Good riddance!
Good Riddance
In every beginning of the year, there is an almost irresistible urge to believe in reinvention—to leave behind what no longer serves us and step into something new. For Awra Briguela, this was never about a symbolic reset or a fleeting promise. It was about surrender. A deliberate, difficult release of the past to make room for the woman standing before us today.
For much of her life, Awra was known through a fixed lens: the child star with the unmistakable grin, sharp comedic timing, and a public image that felt inseparable from who she was allowed to be. Growing up in the industry meant learning early that familiarity can become a cage.
“Masaya akong i-let go ang old version ng sarili ko na matagal kong pinanghawakan,” Awra shares. For years, she held back from transitioning—careful not to disrupt the image people had come to expect. Even the smallest details felt untouchable. Her teeth, for instance, became a defining feature of her public identity. “May mindset na kapag doon ka nakilala, kailangan mo siyang panindigan kasi ‘trademark’ mo na siya.”
Fixing them last June marked more than a physical change. It was the beginning of choosing herself. Soon after, she began letting go of another version of her body—one she was known for being toned, masculine, controlled. This January, she allowed herself to move toward something softer, something truer.
“I was known for having a very toned and masculine body,” she says. “Now, I’m ready to let go of that to achieve the soft and feminine body I want—as I start my transition into the woman I am becoming.”
Who tells the story?
After the 2023 brawl incident, Awra did not just face criticism—she faced reduction. What began as accountability slowly hardened into a public image she could not escape. Over time, that single mistake stopped being treated as a moment and began to define how people saw her.
But for Awra, the burden was doubled.
As a trans woman in the Philippines, scrutiny does not exist in isolation. Mistakes are magnified, forgiveness is conditional, and growth is often denied. The incident became a convenient justification for cruelty folded into a broader culture of transphobia where trans women are rarely afforded complexity, let alone grace.
“Akala ko yun na ang katapusan ng career ko at akala ko hindi na ako makakabalik dahil nung mga panahon na yun akala ko ide-define ako ng pagkakamaling nagawa ko,” she says. In a culture that is quick to remember transgressions but slow to allow growth, the fear was suffocating. The incident began to eclipse everything else—her work, her years in the industry, the person she was still becoming. Online, the conversation shifted. In the public eye, complexity gave way to judgment.
For nearly one to two years, Awra lived with the weight of being seen through that singular lens. It wasn’t just the fear of losing opportunities—it was the quiet erosion of self-trust. When a mistake becomes the version of you people recognize, it’s easy to start believing it yourself.
“Nawalan ako ng tiwala at paniniwala sa sarili ko,” she admits. There were moments when getting back up felt undeserved, when moving forward felt like something she no longer had the right to do. But time revealed what outrage could not: that one moment, no matter how public, cannot hold an entire life hostage.
For years, moving on did not come easily—because the internet would not let her.
What should have been a private process of accountability and healing became public ridicule. Awra became a punching bag online, reduced to a joke, a meme, a cautionary tale stripped of context and humanity. The mistake was no longer just remembered—it was repeatedly resurrected, replayed, and weaponized. Each attempt to move forward was met with laughter, disbelief, or cruelty, making progress feel not only difficult, but undeserved.
In a digital culture that thrives on permanence, the past refused to stay where it belonged. The noise made healing heavier. It blurred the line between accountability and punishment, turning growth into something she felt she had to earn endlessly.
Letting go, for Awra, required confronting a harsher truth: that long after accountability, she was still living as if she needed to be punished. The guilt she carried did not come from a lack of remorse—it came from the fear that she would never be allowed to move on.
“I needed a lot of courage to let go of so many things, because I truly believe that letting go is a form of self-love. For me to finally move on from what happened, I had to release a lot—especially the mistakes I made and the regrets I’ve been holding onto,” she shares. Holding on to regret, she realized, had become a way of accepting the version of herself the public had decided she was. But growth demands something else entirely.
To Awra, real remorse is not performative suffering. It is learning, changing, and choosing not to repeat the same mistakes. “Para sa akin, kung totoo kang nagsisisi sa isang pagkakamali, dapat matuto ka mula doon hindi mo siya uulitin at hindi mo na dapat pang paulit-ulit na pinaparusahan sa sarili mo.”
Continuing to live in guilt only kept her frozen in the past. It denied her the chance to heal, to grow, and to become something more than her lowest moment. Releasing regret became an act of resistance—a refusal to let one chapter define the whole book.
“Kung patuloy mong dinadala ang guilt at regret, hindi ka talaga makaka-move on,at hindi mo rin binibigyan ng chance ang sarili mo na mag-heal.” she reflects. Healing, she learned, is not forgetting. It is choosing to move forward anyway.
Today, Awra speaks of that chapter as something she has acknowledged, learned from—and consciously left behind. “Naiwan ko na siya,” she says.
Awra is taking back her Aura
As Awra poses for our Metroscene January cover, we see a woman standing fully on her own terms—grounded, intentional, and unafraid. She has bid farewell to the chapters that weighed her down, not with bitterness, but with gratitude for the lessons they carried. Each goodbye shaped her, strengthened her, and led her here.
This is the message we usher in this year: that letting go is not loss, but liberation. That we can honor what once was, release what no longer serves us, and still move forward with clarity and grace. The "Good Riddance" we celebrated at this shoot wasn't a bitter goodbye; it was a triumphant liberation.
Awra Briguela didn't just show up for a cover shoot. She arrived at her truth. And as the sun set on our late-January day, she proved that the most beautiful thing you can do for your future is to leave the past exactly where it belongs.
#MetrosceneMagCoverStories | JANUARY 2026 COVER: GOOD RIDDANCE ft. AWRA BRIGUELA
Executive Producer, Creative Director, Art Director, and Editor-in-Chief: Elwyn Baccay (@markelwyn)
Photographed by John Lim (@johnlimjml), assisted by Genio Frondoza (@geniofrondoza)
Makeup by Kenric Carpio (@itsk3nric), assisted by Paolo Alexander (@paociago)
Hairstyling by Patty Cristobal (@patty.cristobal)
Styling by Elwyn Baccay (@markelwyn) assisted by Ron Roxas (@rnrxs)
special thanks to Kenric Carpio (@itsk3nric) and Uriel Matthew (@urielmatthew)
On Awra:
“Kabayo” dress by Ron Roxas (@rnrxs), custom-printed Illustration by Rei Medua (@reimedua)
Accessories from FLUTTER (@flutterstatementjewelry)
Custom Gladiator heels from Jojo Bragais (@jojobragais)
Videography and Edit: Cloyde Godoy (@cloydegodoy)
Lighting, Grip, and BTS: Sam Zaraspe (@its_samzaraspe) and Sanja Cortes (@sanjacortes)
Hand-painted Green Backdrop by Grant Babia (@grantbabia)
Metroscene Mag interns:
Jhanesse (@jhanesse_) and Sophia Koizumi (@sophiack_)
Shot at CPMP STUDIO (@cpmpstudio)
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