Noah Carlos on Growing Up Queer and What Motherly Love Means Today
For the model Noah Carlos, there’s only one place they would want to be during lockdown. “I'm back home with my mom, my sister and my grandma in Orange County, California,” says Carlos. “I was born and raised here, and I love it way too much to leave. Obviously it sucks we can't go to the beach right now, but the beach will always be there after this is all over.”
Even if Carlos, who identifies as non-binary, feels most settled in their home state, since signing to modeling agency IMG in 2018 they’ve been regularly spotted on runways around the world. While walking for the likes of Maison Margiela, Rick Owens, and Marc Jacobs, they’ve swiftly racked up an impressive number of campaigns and editorials too, including a recent Steven Klein shoot for Vogue’s March issue.
Carlos’s ability to quickly adapt to their newfound role as an international model is partly due to their long-standing love for fashion, something they first discovered through the joy of thrifting. Many years before they were decked out in the finest designer labels, Carlos could be found most weekends at their local Salvation Army—their Instagram handle is still @loserthrift—scouring the shelves for items to either wear or resell online.
“I was 13 or 14 when I started thrifting,” says Carlos. “I was raised by a single mom, so we barely had any money, and I was into the Tumblr style at the time—very grunge-inspired, lots of oversized flannel, vintage T-shirts, mom jeans. That was the typical aesthetic of American Apparel, but that was out of my price range, so I thought, what's the next best thing?”
It was also thanks to this experience of rifling through mountains of clothing brought home from charity stores, and trying pieces on in the mirror, that they began exploring their gender identity. “Being queer and Filipino in the industry was a scary thing at first, because I didn't really see it growing up, but it was while thrifting that I first found that confidence,” Carlos adds.
It’s something their mother, Iresa, has been supportive of right from the get-go. “I had started wearing women’s clothing, and I remember saying to my mom, ‘I’m gonna wear a dress to homecoming,’” Carlos recalls. “Her response was just, ‘Okay, great, that’s up to you.’” It’s this implicit but unwavering support Carlos feels from their mother that has seen them have the confidence to become something of a figurehead for queer Filipino youth, particularly those growing up in less hospitable family environments, many of whom regularly reach out to Carlos for advice over Instagram.
For Carlos, though, the typical coming-out narrative we learn from films and TV doesn’t have to be a one-size-fits-all template, and as the boundaries of gender and sexuality grow more nuanced, there are new ways to navigate explaining it to our families. “I actually haven't officially come out to my mom, and for me, I don't think there's any point now for me to come out,” Carlos explains. “We want coming out to be this really huge thing, but you should just be accepting of whoever your child becomes or whoever your child brings home to meet you. My mom has never made me uncomfortable or forced me to talk to her about anything before I was ready. I know not everybody else is in the same position, and that’s why I feel my relationship with my mom is so special.”
Carlos’s mother Iresa currently works as a medical assistant in a doctor’s office, a fact Carlos is particularly proud of given the current COVID-19 crisis. But that pride also runs deeper. As Carlos describes it, their mother has been something of a rock for their extended family, in particular when it came to protecting those who were most vulnerable. “Our uncle was gay and the family would introduce his boyfriend as his ‘friend,’ but they would always go to my mom if they had a problem and needed to talk. I remember my aunt was pregnant but she wasn't married, and she told my mom first. Everyone has always been comfortable telling my mom anything.” Carlos’s close relationship with their mother, and their admiration for Iresa’s unflappable spirit, is something they now channel to provide solidarity and support for those they encounter online in less fortunate circumstances. “I always think, ‘How did I get so lucky with the mom I have?’”
“But really she’s just a typical nice Filipino woman that is accepting of everybody,” Carlos continues, after a pause. “If anyone on the internet is ever feeling down, I tell them: ‘My mom can be everybody’s mom.’”
Originally Appeared on Vogue
