Singing through stigma. Paula Lovely on voice, visibility and queer resistance.
Between smoky lights, glitter and late-night karaoke at KIKI, Paula Lovely has built a bridge between joy and protest. A singer, performer and activist, Paolo moved from Portugal to Iceland in 2024, looking, as he says, for “a place to build a more stable and sustainable new life”. He packed his bags, arrived a week later and quickly became a familiar face in Reykjavík’s queer nightlife.
His drag persona, Paula Lovely (Paolo), takes center stage in the performance project +Gl0ry+ a raw, ritualistic work that confronts HIV stigma through symbolism, physical expression and vulnerability. Shown at both the Reykjavík and Stockholm Fringe Festivals, the piece received awards for its visceral and confrontational power. Gl0ry blends protest and intimacy, spirituality and queerness, and for Paolo it marks a turning point in both life and art.
Today, between activism and performance, Paolo continues to turn his voice into a space of connection, empathy and resistance.
GayIceland: Tell us about the project?
“I was invited to perform ‘whatever you want, we trust you’ at an erotic art event in Lisbon,” Paolo recalls. “At the time, I was at the peak of my visibility as a person living with HIV. I conceived GL0RY very suddenly and decided that it would be the first act of a trilogy.
GL0RY is hard to describe because it’s a one-on-one experience. Every visitor participates in their own way, and their presence and choices shape the ritual. It’s about rewriting the narrative of HIV/AIDS by placing the artist living with HIV as the carrier of salvation. But it’s also a promise of unfiltered, unseen, unrecorded and unheard intimacy – a space where you can be as free as you are when no one’s watching.
The community here is small and tight, and I felt quickly welcomed. It’s not intimidating, and that’s fantastic.
Back then, GL0RY helped me reconnect militancy and communion, empowerment and sweetness. It made clear that the power of intimacy and tenderness is what generates real transformation.
Paula Lovely was born in Lisbon in 2017, almost as a joke,” Paolo laughs. “A drag friend needed a last-minute replacement for a weekly show and said: you’re a singer, come sing at my show. I told them: if you host in drag, then I’ll sing in drag. And so it began.”
Singing is my love language and my freedom. If I were the little mermaid, I’d give up the prince to keep my voice – nothing is closer to my heart.
Paolo had been performing and singing all his life, but creating a stage persona with a different name, gender expression and image opened a new chapter. In Iceland, he slowly rebuilt that energy. While bartending at KIKI, he offered to occasionally replace the regular karaoke host – and soon, Paula Lovely nights became a small queer ritual.
“It turned into a family-like moment,” Paolo says. “Mostly people from the local LGBTQIA+ community. It gave me a platform to reconnect with peers in a new country.”
It was also a springboard to something bigger. Encouraged by his community, Paolo submitted Gl0ry to the Reykjavík Fringe Festival. The performance, once considered “too peculiar or too confrontational”, won awards both there and in Stockholm. “I was shocked and very, very happy,” he says and smiles.
Singing remains at the center of Paolo’s life.
“Singing is my love language and my freedom,” he says softly. “In my family there’s no memory of a time when I wasn’t singing. If I were the little mermaid, I’d give up the prince to keep my voice – nothing is closer to my heart.”
For Paolo, singing is not just expression – it’s communion.
“It’s what people do for themselves when they’re alone, and it’s how humanity has always expressed spirituality, celebration and belonging,” he says. “When I sing, I offer all of me, including the ugly and the vulnerable.
Drag is a language, an artistic practice,” he goes on. “What stays political in it is the playfulness of bending gender and questioning norms. Drag mocks toxic masculinity and patriarchy in ways that are otherwise unimaginable. Being queer is political because our existences are always exposed to danger – it’s a continuous act of resistance.”
I want to see Iceland with a community-based center for sexual wellbeing and a more open conversation about HIV. The country has the potential and the means to do better.
In Paolo’s mind all struggles are intertwined: poverty, racism, sexism, ableism, queerness, HIV.
“In Iceland we risk underestimating how much work still needs to be done. Hate crimes exist, stigma exists, and HIV remains mostly surrounded by silence. I lost a job because of my HIV status and never saw a proper response. Not discriminating is good, but it’s not the same as being an ally..
I’d love activism to be so vocal that you can’t avoid being confronted,” he says. “I’d love more investment not just in prevention but in care, community and rewriting the narrative of HIV/AIDS.”
Lesbian women don’t seem to have their own proper social space. I’d be the biggest fan of a Lesbo bar.
Paolo thinks politics and education can change people’s lives on a large scale, but art hits differently, building narration, breaking the status quo and changing minds. Art reshapes thought and puts pressure on politics. It reframes social issues from the personal, the intimate, the shocking, the beautiful and the fun.
“These days it feels more balanced,” he says. “I still feel the militancy, but I’ve reached a more mature approach. I’m better at leaving space for others and focusing where my work can have real impact.
The community here is small and tight, and I felt quickly welcomed. It’s not intimidating, and that’s fantastic,” he says. “I sense that sometimes the queerer micro bubble is not fairly connected to other parts of the LGBTQIA+ movement. In my very limited experience, parts of the gay male scene in Reykjavík still seem very attached to stereotyped masculinity, and sometimes don’t fully embrace inclusivity towards women and trans people. The classic atrocious misogyny of the white man exists among gays, too. Also, lesbian women don’t seem to have their own proper social space – I’d be the biggest fan of a Lesbo bar – but that’s sadly common in other countries, too. I just wished Iceland could be that good exception.
Another issue is substance use. Chemsex, among gay men, again here as elsewhere, is becoming or has already become a major health concern.
Other cities like London or even the much smaller Bologna have started responding more openly, while in Iceland the conversation doesn’t seem to have fully started yet. Problematic substance use, addiction and chems-related mental health issues are, for our generation, one of the biggest health challenges since AIDS — and just like back then, my fear is that we’re not acting on it and probably won’t until it’s too late and a whole generation has been wiped out.”
As an artist, Paolo says he’d love to form a band, write original music, release an album and perform live.
“As an activist, I want to see Iceland with a community-based center for sexual wellbeing and a more open conversation about HIV. The country has the potential and the means to do better,” he says, smiling. “Oh, and I’d love an army of lesbians and trans folks ruling the country.”
Unionise and protect each other,” he says firmly. “Confront, dare to dream big, take public space, be fabulous. Nothing is more revolutionary than loving and celebrating bodies and stories that have been silenced for too long. Shine bright. We love you.”
Chemsex, among gay men, again here as elsewhere, is becoming or has already become a major health concern.
GayIceland: What are your future plans as an artist?”
“Before creating, you need to study!” Paolo laughs. “If I want to stay relevant and connected to my context, I need to know and understand the humanity around me. I have first impressions, I sense things, but do I know enough? Not at all. First step – learn some Icelandic and stop being the foreigner who doesn’t even try.”
You can support the Gl0ry project and follow its ongoing journey here: gl0ry.odoo.com